It was also filled with stories about women who had lost their mothers, and how they missed them, with words to all to “cherish” your mother if she is still here.
And other stories of people estranged from their mothers, and those who had days that did not turn out as they had wished.
I saw all this scroll by me, rapid fire. Our expectations, our wishes, our hopes, our successes, our failures, our guilt, our happiness and sadness.
Snapshots of life, on a day that meant so much to us, whether for the good or the bad.
And I decided to not have it mean anything. I decided, after feeling this mass of other feelings from so many others, to just let it be a day. Any old day, that was as special as the last, and as special as the next.
See, I have done my years wishing to sleep in, or desperate to escape for “just an hour” on my own. I no longer feel the need to be acknowledged, or wanting to feel appreciated. I have handprints, and handmade cards and lopsided vases filling my office.
This year, I was just happy living IN my life, enjoying all the random and tiresome moments, without any fanfare. I was thrilled with leftovers for breakfast, and dragging two cold bottles of sparkly out of our pantry. I loved the tossed together lunch, many hands contributing items from the fridge into a chaotic buffet. I liked that our day rolled out ahead of us, with no plan, no worries, and no requirements.
Our dinner of leftovers was perfect as well.
I didn’t want to see my husband, already so busy and tired, re-arrange his day, or spend our few short family hours working to make it all about me. I didn’t want anyone running off to town to gather the makings of an epic meal. I didn’t need slaves today… I just needed, wanted, and appreciate my family.
There were arguments throughout the day between our 3 kids, and dishes to be done, and laundry to be washed. I was not Queen of the day, with my minions serving me, I was just mom and they were my family.
My day was beautiful.
Being a mother to my children is not a chore, and it is not a thankless job either. I am appreciate through the nighttime snuggles, the surprise hugs in the kitchen in the morning and the spontaneous conversations that pop up throughout our day.
I am not the best mother, nor the worst, and appreciate that my children get to see and experience me as a real human, a multi faceted being.
My Mother’s day was just a day, one of the many I am lucky to experience, and I am thankful for each one.
Our leftovers for dinner may not have seemed special, or enough to other families, but to me I knew that those leftovers brought time with them. Time that wasn’t spent in the kitchen, or the grocery store. Time that was just spent living, together, as a family.
Leftovers for the win.