Mother's Day Mayhem

Contrary to what the title implies, I had a great mother's day. My husband and kids made me a very tasty breakfast in bed. I received flowers and cards with promises to vacuum the house and do five chores worth $20 (I think my 8-year-old has an inflated sense of his helpfulness).

For supper, my husband made beef stew, home-baked bread, and spice cake - all were delicious, by the way. He bought an expensive cut of meat, which he thought was called Agnes beef (say Angus, honey, An-gus). Really, I'd hate to think my pleasure was at the expense of a little old lady.

In short, my husband and kids did exactly what they were supposed to do for mother's day - they made me feel special. Unfortunately, I'm so used to doing everything myself, I had to force myself to walk away when my husband started making the cake using terribly inefficient techniques. I did help him out at supper time because honestly I couldn't walk away. I have issues, I admit it.

But the kicker was the dishwasher episode. Setting: Me lying in bed, relaxed, reading a House Beautiful magazine after eating my delicious breakfast. My husband has just headed into the kitchen when I hear, "OOOhhhh..." in this mournful, oh crud, kind of voice. Sensing trouble, I leaped out of bed (seriously, I did) and dashed into the kitchen. For some reason, I just knew it was the dishwasher. Maybe it wasn't making the same noise I'm accustomed to. I don't know. All I knew was that I was needed to save the day.

And then I saw the bubbles.

That dishwasher was frothing at the mouth like a rabid raccoon. My husband, thinking I'd bought a new sort of dishwasher detergent, put dish soap into the little cup (something they vehemently warn you not to do). Let me tell you, there were a lot bubbles to clean up and scoop out and wash down the sink. A lot. I'm thinking that when I start up the dishwasher again, there'll be more bubbles.

When it was all over, I told my husband he was a writer's dream, and then I somehow managed to laugh and give him a hug. What can I say? Mothers need to be needed.

Seeing all those bubbles just made my day.

Mother's Weekend

This year, I celebrated Mother’s Day in style…I took the whole weekend off. I’ve been feeling burnt out lately and I had to just get away or risk a complete mental and emotional breakdown. As a mom and a writer, I juggle a lot of things. Most of the time, I can handle it. But I think that never getting a vacation from my job as a mom was starting to wear on me a bit. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a stay-at-home mom. But if I have to hear my kids say, "What is this stuff?" while looking at whatever’s on their dinner plate or "Kiki kicked me in the…" or "oops, I accidentally wrote all over the walls," one more time, I’m going to go mad. I don’t want to go more mad, I’m mad enough as it is.

So I took the whole weekend off.

I’m fortunate to have a spouse who is very supportive of me. He not only was wiling to give me the time off, he was happy to have a chance to spend that time with his kids. It’s sad that I have to look at this as being lucky, rather than accepting this as a given, but I know a lot of dads who have no time for their kids and think their spouse’s only dream in life is to cater to the family’s every wishes. That is not me.

Because it’s still officially my day off, I’ll only say this one thing about my lovely weekend…On my first day off, I drove to the ocean and watched the waves. It was lovely. I didn’t have to worry that someone was going to fall on the rocks or into the water and drown or deal with someone asking for food because they’re hungry. I just sat there, watching. Anyway, you know how you can’t help but think that some things are immutable? Well, while I was sitting on those giant boulders, I thought them unbreakable. They seemed so solid beneath me. Then a giant wave smashed against them and I realized that nothing could withstand that kind of beating forever. Even the seemingly most unchangeable thing I can think of will eventually be broken. Still, those rocks will take the beating for as long as they can. They will endure until they can endure no more.

And that’s like life. It wears you down, and eventually will grind you to dust (nice imagery, I know, but true). Until then, you stand tall and you survive. There simply are times in life when you just have to endure as best you can. And oftentimes, that’s being a mom trying to raise her kids to not only survive to adulthood, but be good, capable people, as well.

On those bad days I’ll just have to remind myself that I am like the rock, and I shall endure. And so shall you.

Happy Mother’s Day, Moms!