My Mother's Day

Since Sunday, I've been asked by a handful of people how my Mother's Day was. I feel compelled to answer in all cases, "it was nice," said in such a way to leave it open for further inspection should anyone pursue more details -- as in, "it was nice, but..." please ask me for the real story.

I think that "nice" implies "pleasant."  I wouldn't describe my Mother's Day as having been that.  To have qualified as "pleasant," it really would have had to have lived up close to the expectations for it that I had imagined the days leading up to Mother's Day.  Sleep until at least 8am.  Be greeted with "I love you" or "Happy Mothers Day" by two smiley, hug-granting kids.  Nice, low-volume conversation at the breakfast table.  A pleasant family trip to Lowe's for some flowers and dirt.  Cal picks out yellow flowers to plant, Ella chooses pink; no one hurries me to select the flowers I want to plant.  A warm day.  A couple of good naps after which we do some planting -- two cooperative, engaged kids helping me plant the flowers we bought earlier.  A picture of me with my two smiley kids. A dinner not prepared by me accompanied by aforementioned nice, low-volume conversation. An easy bedtime routine ended with similar pleasantries from the kids as they had delivered in the morning. And a bottle of wine shared with Dan, without whom I wouldn't be a mom.

Ridiculous as it may sound, that's really not far from what I imagined for my Mother's Day and foolishly thought could actually happen.

Instead, I was awakened at roughly 6am by the sounds of two kids and up shortly thereafter to get the crying one who still sleeps in a crib from her crib. Once downstairs with the kids, I managed to get them entertained enough for me to plop down on the couch relatively undisturbed and catch a few episodes of "Elbow Room" (with Chip Wade) on HGTV -- turns out, I like that show.  Dan joined me for a few episodes and then headed, with Ella, to Jewel for some breakfast supplies (with the meat of my choosing).  He returned with not only the supplies but a six-pack of the "high-octane" (i.e. non-diet) Dr. Pepper for me to drink on my special day.  I do like high-octane Dr. Pepper.

I needed it to stay on top of the 4-round poop session Ella sucked me into shortly thereafter.  Yes, four rounds of Ella declaring she had to poop and me hustling her onto the toilet to poop... with all rounds completed within 10 minutes.  She actually delivered some poop three of the four times.

Breakfast was good and not fixed by me, but it wasn't quiet -- Cal and Ella conversed (i.e. Cal sang while Ella constantly shared her mostly unintelligible statements) at their typical loud volumes.  Ella actually ate; Cal opted not to.

The morning continued as it normally does with Cal drawing picture after picture, Ella not focused on any one thing and general insanity throughout.  Eventually, we decided we'd go to Lowe's on our way to Cal's swimming lesson, and this required the normal pleading with Cal well in advance of leaving to get his shoes on so we could get out the door.  This was trying for everyone involved but worked without ending in tears.

At Lowe's, we fortunately found the "car" shopping cart which enabled us to fulfill the expectation that had been set with the kids. As I shopped for flowers, Dan had them "driving" up and down the aisles.  There would be no collaboration on what flowers to buy -- they got the dirt, I picked the flowers (which really I didn't need many of since I had bought some from a local seller the day before) all by myself.  Everyone was good with this impromptu approach, and our trip to Lowe's was actually pretty efficient.

We made it to Cal's swimming lesson with time to spare, which made Dan and me uneasy -- how would the kids handle the idle time?  The answer?  They'd get sucked in to a movie on the TV in the "lobby" at the swim center.  It worked.  And then Cal proceeded to have an excellent swimming lesson after which he was given three patches and the news that he'd be moving up a class.

To celebrate both Cal's swimming success and Mother's Day, we went out for lunch.  Cal's choice?  Chick-fil-A, which we realized was closed on Sundays only after we hit the parking lot. This was not good for two reasons: 1) I knew where we'd end up instead and 2) we didn't know how Cal would handle this change.  After a few "I want to go to Chick-fil-A"s followed by "We can't, Cal, it's closed"s, we ended up at Steak and Shake, Cal's second choice (despite Dan's attempt to get Cal to agree to Hooters, which I actually would have preferred).  We had our last meal ever at Steak and Shake with slow service, kids constantly moving around in the booth and Ella putting Steak and Shake stickers all over my face; and we then headed home for naps, during which I planned on preparing to do some planting.

Ella napped; Cal did not.  When Cal chooses not to nap, we usually ask that he spend some quiet time in his room, reading books, lying in bed... some form of relaxation.  On Mother's Day, he asked very sweetly if he could draw instead.  I don't like to say "no" to drawing, so I told him he could but had to help me with some dirt first.  I was still holding on to my hope that he'd help me do some planting -- once he got drawing, I knew that wouldn't happen for sure.

I don't know how we lost track of the Cal-helping-me scenario without exchanging words about it, but he started drawing and I went outside to do the planting prep I had planned for naptime.  I really didn't want to deal with a fight over something relatively insignificant.  At the same time, Dan was getting the oil changed (much needed) in our cars.

As I prepped outside, our neighbor, Steve, called me over to look at the baby bunnies nested in his garden.  So sweet.  At around the same time, Cal emerged from the house to proudly show me the Dr. Seuss picture he had drawn (left); so I took advantage of this "teaching" moment and brought him over to see the baby bunnies.  Bunnies seen, we then left with an offer to borrow a collection of Dr. Seuss books, me still with stickers on my face.

When she was done napping, I did manage to get Ella into her gardening gloves to "help" me plant some flowers in our barrel planter.  Ella "helping" me plant things always turns out to be more work for me, where I undo the planting or digging that she had done, which is fine, really, as I don't expect her to be sure-handed or even the least bit skilled.  But after a couple of flips of dirt, she got upset and uncooperative -- I really don't recall why, but I do recall giving up, stepping away from the planter and just sitting in a chair on the deck with Ella insisting I hold her.  This was my breaking point. To this point, I had been pretty patient and took things as they came.  I was frustrated, tired and a little sad, selfishly wondering why can't it just be about me for 30 minutes?

Meanwhile, Cal was still drawing pictures inside the house, oblivious to the goings on outside.

Somehow, Ella calmed down and I managed to fill the planter, Ella contributing as the adder of the last layer of dirt once all of the flowers were in.  I had more to plant, but I decided to leave them for the next day, content to just plant them by myself.

Dan fixed dinner -- Italian sausage, twice-baked potato and corn.  We then watched a few scenes from Les Mis (the 2010 musical in London) and then announced it was bathtime.  I asked Dan to take a quick picture of the kids and me, as has become our Mother's Day tradition.  Cal was less than cooperative with this; Ella was an enthusiastic participant.  These same characteristics continued to the bathtub, Cal clearly not wanting to take a bath and Ella very happy to do so.  Dan gave a wailing Cal his bath first and finished with happy Ella.  Hearing the struggle from downstairs, I ran up to help calm Cal, now screaming "Mommy!," down and get him into bed.

Cal, me and Ella on Mother's Day (5/12/13)

And that was my Mother's Day.

To the right is one of the pictures we took just before bathtime.  I don't think anyone would describe it as a "nice" picture.  Alone, I think it tells the story of my Mother's Day.  Not perfect nor absent a struggle nor purely content by any means, but really special nonetheless.  Afterall, I was able to hold and hug my kids and hear them call me, "Mommy."

There are so many moms affected first-hand by the tragic goings on in the world these days taking the lives of the youngest and most innocent.  There are also too many moms whose kids' lives were so unfairly cut short by terminal illnesses. What these moms wouldn't give to have stickers put all over their faces or to be on the receiving end of a defiant "No!" having given the simple request to put shoes on.  What they wouldn't give to have to calm a screaming child after a full day of constant, loud chatter or to participate as a butt wiper in poop session after poop session. I feel like I owe it to these moms to fully appreciate my Mother's Day however it unfolds, if not for the simple reason that I can share my day with my kids.