We were supposed to go away for the weekend; it has become somewhat of a tradition for us to spend Mother's Day in Maine. People think we are nuts, but this off-season is the perfect time to go: the rates are lower, the restaurants are not crowded, and the dog is allowed to join us for long, chilly walks on the beach. It is heaven. There are very few places I would rather be, but the weather has been lousy, and I just was not feeling up for wet-dog-chasing-kids-around-a-crowded-motel-room. So, we decided to stay home and lay low. This has been one of my favorite Mother's Days.
S took the girls to the mall yesterday while I stayed home and did a few things around the house: a couple loads of laundry, a little vacuuming and a lot of reading--quiet reading with zero interruptions, which, right there, is the perfect gift for any mother.
I was on the phone when they returned, bursting in the door with presents for me. H was carrying a gift bag and A was carrying a rose, the stem of which she snapped in two when she ran up and excitedly crumpled the cellophane into my chest.
"Mommy!" she yelled as she jumped up and down.
"Mommy! We got you a rose and a phone and a purse and chocolate!"
She was smiling and jumping and shaking her head up and down; she was not blinking, her eyes were so wide it seemed as though they didn't have lids. She didn't see it coming when she was hit, in the back of the head, with the gift bag.
"A!! It's supposed. To be. a surprise!" H whined.
Now they were both in tears. I handed the phone to S who made my goodbyes and apologies to an understanding friend, and cuddled a couple of upset little girls. Then I opened my gifts a day early.
You will never guess what I got! A rose, white (H has a thing about white roses) still a bud. A new cell phone, the pink razor. A new summer purse, my first Vera Bradley, which I would never have picked out, but I love. And some chocolate, Godiva, good old fashioned milk chocolate truffles.
This morning I was in the bathroom when I heard H telling A to wait a minute, and to not wake me up yet cause they weren't ready. I ran and dove back under the covers approximately four seconds ahead of my husband and girls rounding the corner to bring me breakfast in bed. H scrambled the eggs herself and A buttered the toast. There was also orange juice, coffee, and bacon; everyone climbed into bed and helped me eat. I think that was my favorite part of the day. Of the week, actually. That's what Sunday mornings, any Sunday morning should be. I don't need much to make me happy.
So, now we are just hanging out. The weather is still raw. We have played several board games, read a few books, and now A is napping (which we will pay for later) and H and S are in the basement organizing. I am a very lucky mommy.
But, enough about me.
This Mother's Day there is a big old love-fest inching its way across the blogosphere, my understanding is that it began here and has slowly branched out. I want to take my place in the circle, holding hands, belting out every last note of We Are the World. I mean that sincerely. Today I stand and honor:
- Erika over at Snazzykat. She's an old college friend of mine celebrating her first Mother's Day with this sweet little guy. She is a writer and a teacher and an activist and she is a mama. The poise and grace with which she attacks each challenge in her life is an inspiration; I am glad we have reconnected.
- I have never met Sarah, yet she is one of the most honest, courageous, smart, funny, humble, beautiful mothers I know.
- I told MacBoudica recently that her blog is what my blog hopes to be when it grows up. She's a feminist SAHM writing about her joys and struggles with her family, as well as important world issues about which I almost always agree whole heartedly with her. Run. Don't walk. To check her out.
I would proudly make fire with these women; I would share my Smores with each and every one of them. I have cried with them, I have laughed with them, I have drawn both strength and inspiration from them, and I wish them, each one of them, the happiest of Mother's Days.