This Mother's Day was a good one despite the fact that I could see it coming from a ways off.
I started worrying about it in January, I think.
And it's not just me, Mother's Day is fairly universally dreaded because we mothers really hate a fuss. It's SO much simpler to disappear into the woodwork with soap and a dishtowel.
It's hard on us to stand in the spotlight, especially if we're expected to stand still.
I think we moms get so used to having four or five or 10 things to do all the time that when you switch us to the "off" button, it throws our systems out of whack.
It's hard to be pampered.
It's also hard to watch our husbands and children take over sacred space like the kitchen and the cupboards. (I find things in the wrong place for weeks.)
This year, Marc worked really hard to make the day nice.
He organized the main meal with the sons-in-law and all the little children came over with their parents.
We had Honey-baked ham and scalloped potatoes, cinnamon cookies and a Thai dessert, all delicious and appreciated.
But I kept bugging Marc with the tough questions:
What are we drinking?
Where do you want everybody to sit?
Don't you think you ought to work with a recipe you've used before?
Why are you doing this that way?
I was banished to my room for a while but it all worked out and I got in a lot of Angry Birds' time but I got to thinking.
No matter what the loving hubbies and hard-working dads do, it's the kids who make the day work.
They bring the gifts that count: the crayon drawings, the Primary songs, the tissue-paper flowers, the macaroni jewelry, the nearly dead plants, the handmade paper purse, the sticky hugs, the dandelion from the backyard.
I wouldn't have missed any of those.
3 years ago