Test Drive

I'm playing with my blog design. It needed a new look, but I can't really justify the expense of a custom design, so I'm trying out this free blog background from thecutestblogontheblock.com.  What do you think? Tell me honestly.

The Four Phases of Mother's Day

I hope all my dear mother friends had exactly the kind of day they wanted.  If you wanted gifts, I hope you got what you hoped for. If you just wanted a day to do something special with your children, I hope your day went as planned.  If you still are so fortunate, as I am, to have your mother,  I hope you were able to connect with her in some fashion.

In the post Mother's Day conversations I've had, I've felt somewhat guilty for my personal need to spend Mother's Day NOT being mom, thinking there must be something faulty with me personally.  I didn't always view Mother's Day this way.  I used to cherish having a special day to just BE with my adorable children, enjoying them and celebrating each other.  But they grew. And I realize now, that there are different phases we go through in terms of what Mother's Day means and how we celebrate.

The first phase is the fairy tale phase.  You have a new baby, maybe a toddler or two, they are small, adorable, still take naps and you are still reveling in the magic of motherhood.  It's still new and wonderful and all of the possibilities life has to offer lay open before you.  Mother's Day is a day you want to celebrate how lucky you are to have these beautiful blessings and to show them off and say "Yes, they are MINE and I love them so!" It was a good phase.  I do miss it.

Phase two - that would be my current place in time.  The bloom is off the rose. The kids are not babies or toddlers, they are kids.  Noisy, demanding, fighting with their siblings and telling me how unfair I am.  While I still am so thankful they are mine, and I love them so much it hurts, I need a break from them every so often.  Right now, so does my bum knee. They want to be with me all.the.time.  I am grateful that they do want to be with me, but for Mother's Day I want the day off.  When the morning's usual "Mooooooooom, my brother has wronged me in some way" whining began in earnest, I said "It's my day off, go tell your dad."

Phase three is coming soon, unfortunately, and I do hope it is a brief phase.  That's the phase where they want nothing to do with mom most of the time and the mere existence of a day to celebrate mothers barely registers in their consciousness.  I think purpose of phase three is so that phase four, by comparison, is something to be cherished.

Phase four is the bittersweet phase.  At least I think it will be bittersweet.  All grown, the kids appreciate you (especially if they have kids of their own!) and do make an effort, of their own accord, to let you know on Mother's Day.  But you won't necessarily get to BE with them.  Maybe they will live far away.  Maybe one of them will be in the military.  Or maybe they have kids of their own and Mother's Day is  now to celebrate the mother of their children.  I'll wish I could be with them and miss the days when I had them all to myself but if I do a halfway decent job with them now, I will hopefully still get a phone call.

So, what DID I do on Mother's Day?  I celebrated with my mother.  Oh, but first I must tell you about my breakfast.  The night before as Nick was headed off to bed, I jokingly said "I look forward to my Mother's Day breakfast!" and I got the deer-in-the-headlights look in response.  I reminded him the next morning was Mother's day, and he said "You do know I'm not allowed to use the stove or oven  don't you?" Classic Nick.  So the morning of Mother's day, I did indeed wake to a dutifully prepared breakfast.  I found a plate, in the center of which was a triple-decker toast-jelly stack surrounded by a banana, an apple, grapes and strawberries. In front of the plate was a chocolate chip cookie, with a bite taken out of it, and next to the plate was a glass of milk with the telltale cookie crumbs floating on top. I guess waiting for me to wake up was more than his tummy could bear.  Next to it all was a sign:"To Mom, From Nicholas.  P.S. the cookie and milk are to wash it down."

Man I love that kid. I almost felt bad for leaving them after that.

For my part I took my mother out.  We got makeovers, then went and had our portraits done, so now I have a current picture of me with my mom, something I haven't had since I was, well, MUCH younger.  After we got our makeovers, I told my mom how beautiful she was, and asked her if she liked her makeup.  She said "Yeah, but now you can see my wrinkle" as she pointed to her left eye.  And being the ever supportive daughter that I am, I giggled.  Wrinkle, singular?  "Mom" I said, as lovingly as possible, "I hate to break it to you, but you're 64.  Wrinkles come with the territory.  But if it makes you feel any better I have them too.  See?  We match!"

So we two wrinkly old moms went and had pictures done.  What do you think?