TheMommyBlog

Sunday, May 11, 2008 Family

As Phil was leaving tonight after dinner, I told him that it had been the best Mother’s Day, ever.

“I’ve been waiting three years to hear you say that.”

“Oh. Um, I guess I wasn’t all that happy for the last few (three–no–more like nine) years.”

“No you weren’t.”

“I was pretty grumpy.”

“Yes you were.”

Yikes. I do remember writing about it last year, and saying that it was the one holiday I couldn’t wait to get through, and that I always end up crying at least once, usually more.

High Cortisol Level: For Sale or Trade

So yesterday was one loooong Mother’s Day wasn’t it? You know what I’m talking about, though no one usually says it out loud. We all dream of being pampered and some of us in fact are pampered on this day and we appreciate it—really—but secretly we wish it would just be Monday already so we can go back to mothering under normal circumstances.

My children have a highly developed sense of empathy and concern alternating with a deep vein of je ne se quois and whatever, dude…

What was it about this year? Well, the kids are older, for one. They were fully capable of making toast and tea (learning first that you can stop at the OUTER wrapper on the packet; If you just dump the tea leaves in, you’ve sort of defeated the purpose.), and the cutest part was that Dylan’s teacher had them make Breakfast in Bed kits at school with tea, a cookie, and a napkin.

“Mom! Are you hungry?”

“Ye–”

“Good!” Stampede to the kitchen. Stampede back. “Do you like apple pie?”

“I love apple pie, but what–”

“Good!” Stampede to the kitchen. I heard Logan telling Daphne that she had the most important job: stay in bed with Mom and don’t let her get up. She took this assignment very seriously, laying across me and kissing me and making silly faces. After a lot of “Whoa! That’s too much!” and “I RUINED IT!” and “Wait! There’s a whole BOX of tea in here!” from the kitchen, Logan peeked around my door.

I said, “Your sister is insane. Seriously, I need help. She’s crazy. Get her off me.”

Giggling madly now. “That was my job, silly! I was supposed to keep you in here!”

“Were you also supposed to creep me out? How do you keep rolling your eyes so far up into your head?”

“Daphne! We’re ready! Come on!” Stampede to the kitchen. Then near-total silence. They navigated the hallway, shuffling carefully over my Gabbeh runner, and the turn into my room, all three of them carrying the tray together, with a huge mug of green tea and the oatmeal cinnamon cookie and fancy paper napkin that was in Dylan’s kit. They were so proud, and wanted so much to make me breakfast in bed, and they did it all by themselves. We were giddy. We were like the Teletubbies.

“Tea!”

“Cookie!”

“Yum!”

“Toast!” My God, we had fun. Maybe you had to be there.

They decided to Velcro themselves to me all morning, so I sat under the lot of them on the sofa and watched The Truman Show. I picked it, and they actually let me watch it. Usually they’re trying to get me to harken back to my childhood and remember how much I LOVED Tom and Jerry cartoons and wouldn’t it be cool to watch some RIGHT NOW? They’re ON DEMAND! And I would lose every time.

Not this morning.

Later, Phil showed up with donuts and made a picnic lunch to take to the park. We roller bladed, played catch, rode the carousel, scootered, and crashed out on the blanket. Once we got home, stinky and muddy, everyone went straight for baths. Daphne and I fell asleep on the sofa, Logan passed out in front of the hockey game in my bed, and Dylan played I Spy on the computer. For TWO HOURS. We all woke up after seven and had a late dinner. (Except for Daphne. She let me carry her to her bed and tuck her blankie in the hole she makes, curled into a ball.)

Jiminy. I’m not used to these gushy posts, least of all about Mother’s Day, so I can understand your wanting to hurl by now, but it’s after eleven and I still have this silly grin on my face.