Mother’s Day 2009

The lovely chaos of a nine-year-old boy. =)

This was my first Mother’s Day with my husband. He is a chef, and that means
Mother’s Day Brunches – early mornings, gone all day, and home exhausted.
Although it’s always been this way, I selfishly let myself feel I was owed
something special the second Sunday in May.

This year, Cinqo de Mayo fell on his regular day off, and it’s a Latino
restaurant. The trade-off for working it was today at home!

I fantasized about French toast and sausage in bed, a picnic lunch in a local
park with fountains, springs, streams, ducks, aple room to run, and a carousel
for Annalise. Then I’d get a blissful hour or two to shut myself in my room and
write.

I was woken by a little girl who’d picked me a tulip and a lilac sprig, and was
ready to go make me a card. Jim brought coffee in bed (he forgot to pick up
eggs and sausage, but I don’t really eat when I get up, anyway). We had
conversation punctuated by cuddles and tickles, then got up to do some family
work. The kids were up late last night, so there was quite a bit of creative
byproduct to tend to. Jim scooped the yard, because he said I shouldn’t need to
do that on Mother’s Day, and we wanted to mow.

He played with the kids, moved their climbing dome to where they wanted it, and
did most of the back yard while I finished up Jeremiah’s quarterly report. Even
that has stopped being the burden it used to be only a few months ago. Now, I
tell the school enough to satisfy them that learning is occurring here,although
I could add so much more, as Jeremiah is blossoming since TV, computer, sleep,
and food controls were lifted. I also enjoy seeing how he’s grown since the
last report, and remembering the indelible moments behind the dry
“educationalese” the school seems to need.

That done, I went to take a turn mowing so Jim could do some motorcycle repair.
But we were out of gas. and, in that moment, I felt my disappointment, and knew
that I actually wanted to mow. Jim, my hero, went to the station to get more,
and I read The Gas We Pass and Fancy Nancy’s A to Z Book of Fancy Words to an
intestine, vocabulary, and fashion loving Annalise, who was sad not to be going
with Daddy…

Jeremiah was taking full advantage of Mom’s laptop and its Internet to play
Qubo, Funbrain, Poptropia, and Age of Empires II, which he deemed “the coolest
game EVER!” I mowed “roads” for Annalise, who likes to follow directly behind
me, holding my shirttails. She found a length of PVC pipe, christened it Little
Black, and rode it round and round the yard, through the garage, with Corki the
dog for a companion.

Tulip and her naughty bits….

Annalise and I got to see the wires frying and the huge cloud of smoke when Jim
shorted out the bike’s circuitry (for the second time…he is frustrated, but
thinking….). Scary-impressive.

We ordered Chinese, and made the kids a Chinese monkey platter. We all watched
Star Trek, “The Trouble with Tribbles” because Miah wanted to, then part of
“I,Mudd” (androids and miming and Mudd, oh my!) before Jim and the kids made me
dark chocolate-dipped strawberries. Then Jim did hugs and tickles and “The
Incredible Journey” with the kids, and I did get an hour or so to write before I
went and helped Lise put all her babies in pajamas and beds, and wash and hang

“Shhh…Koko the gorilla is snuggling Baby Annalise”.

their laundry on the clothesline, and the boys did boy things.

Now Lise is asleep, Jeremiah is playing Carmen Sandiego Mysteries Through Time
and watching Friends, and Jim and I are winding down, watching M*A*S*H…

I am truly blessed…..this is what it’s all about, isn’t it…just the living,
joyfully, freely, and in a way that honors us all…*BWG*

Wow!

Take a chance! Type something in this box, and see what happens! =D

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.