Woke up to kids telling me to stay in bed. Yes. Stay in bed. Didn’t need to tell me twice. Then greeted by a bowl of fresh berries, Gerbera Daisies and a balloon from each kid, even Lucy. I have pics of this, but thought I’d spare you me in my nursing cami and bite splint (rrrrrrr). The boys bought gift certificates to Schulers with their own money, which they hold on to quite tightly, so I feel very honored. This gift may have been prompted by a conversation we had a few weeks prior about what cremation was and I explained that it was when the funeral people burn a persons empty body in a big furnace and then their family spreads the ashes in a place that was special to the person who died. I have asked to be cremated and have the majority of my ashes spread in the fiction section of Schulers with a bit reserved for London and a bit for the cottage. So, Schulers. From the boys.
There was this note:
And a sweet card from The Kevins, those thoughtful birds. And Dan bought me a garbage disposal which might sound like a crappy gift to anyone not living with a pan of smelly water under the sink (see post titled “tired.”). So happy. Which is what I said to Dan as I languished in bed with my fruit and my garbage disposal, “This is the best Mother’s Day I’ve ever had.” To which he replied, “Except the ones before we had kids. Those were pretty nice too.” Yes.
No toothpaste in the sink. No one complaining that he got hit or punched or got his toy stolen by that rat brother of his. No little shoes to trip over in the back hall. No piles of laundry or sporting equipment or dirty diapers. No little voices telling me I’m the best, even though I’m not. No grubby hands slipped into mine while we snuggle in the monster bed. No pages filled with scribbles of witty, clever things these amazing creatures have said that I just had to write down so I’d never forget. Never forget. Yeah, those days were simpler, but these days are so much sweeter.
So, happy Mother’s Day to all of us who adore their children, even though we sometimes get why some animals eat their young. Happy Mother’s Day to everyone who occasionally longs for those days before children when the biggest worry was which drycleaner to use, but who would actually never trade these crazy days for anything. Nothing. Happy Mother’s Day to the mothers who birthed us, nurtured us, let us drive them nuts but still gave nearly everything of themselves so we could be good people when we grew up. Who spent countless hours, like we do now, on their knees praying for healing, peace, direction, a Godly spouse, grandbabies, brokeness, wholeness, and who have cried, as we have, countless times when they’ve been exhausted or elated or just quiet, watching a baby sleep. And especially to our Nana who dropped everything to take Tess to Grandfriends day this week when I got it wrong and she was in danger of having to miss the whole thing because she was Grandfriendless. You are the best. This day is the best.