We're not much for Mother's Day around here. I'm not entirely sure how one would really celebrate it, anyway. Going to brunch or out to dinner seems to be a popular option, but I like the food at home way better than anywhere else. There is also the point that eating in a public place with my three hellions is not my idea of a celebration.
Breakfast in bed is another seemingly popular tradition that I just can't get behind. I have zero interest in eating on my pillow.
So this morning I got up and had my pancakes just like any other Sunday. A. always makes sourdough pancakes or waffles on Sundays. I like pancakes better, so that was my special Mother's Day request. I did get the requisite and always-appreciated Mother's Day gift made at school by Cubby and Charlie. In Charlie's case, a craft proclaiming that he loves me to the moon and back, enhanced by glitter. In Cubby's case, a list of why he loves me, which includes the gem, "I know my mom cares about me because . . . she fills my water bottles."
But mostly it's been business as usual. Lots of preparing and serving of pancakes. Arbitrating disputes over the Tinker Toy pieces. Continuing Jack's toilet training, which involves spending a good part of the morning watching him like a hawk and racing him to the bathroom, where we then camped out until he produced a satisfactory result and was then rewarded with a chocolate chip (or two, depending on the, ahem, result).
You know. Mom stuff. Because if there's one thing you learn quickly with motherhood, it's that it never stops. Not ever. Best to accept that and find your happiness where you can. It's not always--or, uh, ever--going to be grand gestures and all-day extravaganzas.
But there will be moments. My moment today came courtesy of the fact that Cubby woke up with a cough yesterday and requested soup for lunch, which meant that I had my favorite cool-weather lunch on hand today: homemade soup and sharp cheddar cheese. Combine that with A. taking the older two to church and Jack going down for his nap, and we have . . .
The solo lunch with a book is indeed a thing of beauty and a joy forever.
You know my love for a quiet meal with a book. That's what feels like indulgence to me. Beats overpriced and underwhelming food at a crowded restaurant, for sure.
Plus, A. is going to make fried chicken tonight and I'm not planning on cleaning up the resulting mess. Happy Mother's Day to me!
And Happy Mother's Day to my sisters-in-arms, whether on active duty, retired, or waiting for the call-up*. I hope you get to do whatever makes you happy today.
* Particularly, of course, my very own mother, who is a pretty sterling example of motherhood and deserves much more than a footnote at the bottom of a post all about me. I don't think she'll hold it against me, though, because she's good like that.