Menu
Giving thanks for Mother's Day
For years, the perfect Mother's Day morning has been waking up Sunday morning with no little children in the bed combined with these small children letting me sleep as long as I want. Of course, this has never happened -- either part -- so I am taking a different approach with Mother's Day this Sunday. Rather than waiting for breakfast in bed or the perfect gift, I'm going to be thankful for my children and in turn, thankful for all the things I've learned from my children.
I am thankful when only one child at a time is sick. How does an illness manage to pass through an entire preschool class, yet infect only one of the children in the home? God must realize my limited abilities, because to date, I have only had one child ill at a time, aside from the constant runny noses. On the same note, I am thankful when everyone in the house goes an entire day without bleeding or without a trip to the emergency room for stitches. I have given up waiting to take formal photos of boys without a scratch or scar on their faces; the marks will just be part of the picture. I've learned that cuts to the head bleed like a stuck pig and are usually worse than they seem -- except when it's a baseball bat to the mouth or a golf club to the forehead. I've learned that you can never have too many Band-Aids, since blood is not a prerequisite for their use, just minor pain. The Band-Aids are now in a secret hiding place since they are opened for everything from a bruise to forgotten scar from three weeks ago. I've learned to encourage my children to pick those "pretty yellow flowers" which make-up my entire front yard and graciously accept the giant bouquet of dandelions which arrives 10 minutes later and requires a vase and place on the dining room table. I've learned that the refrigerator is the focal point of the entire house and that every drawing and award certificate will be placed on its' door for at least two months -- or until smaller hands pull the pieces of paper down to use as teething toys. I've learned that rocks and pebbles are some of the most interesting things put on this earth, primarily because they fit into pockets. This is a problem only because I have not got into the regular habit of checking small jean pockets before they are placed in the washing machine. Currently, half the loads of laundry feature a loud clunking approximately 30 seconds into the spin cycle. (At some point, I am assuming the rocks will evolve into coins and cash and I'll be able to fund my retirement with pocket change.) I've learned that I cannot force my children into either the athletic or academic roles. They aren't going to learn their ABCs or ride a bike, regardless of my prodding or bribing, except in their own sweet time. In the meantime, I'm still learning to cheer them on when they completely miss the soccer ball or to spell grandma for the eighth time even though there are only seven letters. I've learned that a person can live on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches alone and that candy cannot be physically hidden from a five-year-old with an entire mouth full of sweet tooths. And I've learned which pets are more tolerant of an 18-month-old using it as a personal pet pony and how quickly the remaining pets can leave a room when that same 18-month-old enters the vicinity.
With Mother's Day only a few days a week, I am preparing for the final ritual of Mother's Day which I've learned over the years -- the bounty of drawings and creations dedicated to my special day. Now if only I can clear some space on the fridge.