Daring Young Mom

Maybe it’s just in the air. It’s definitely all around us and through us and it’s fun and LOUD and festive and at times obnoxious.

My mom always used to say that what she really wanted for Mother’s Day was well-behaved kids who were obedient and didn’t spend the whole day fighting. But what about these delicious red bath oil beads?! Surely they’re enough of a bribe that I can spend the rest of the day making annoying mouth noises and poking my sister in the arm until she begs for mercy.

Ah. I understand her so much better now. The kids were very excited and excitable, cute and AAAHHHHHH!!!!!

Dan is a good Mother’s Day husband. He’s actually quite passable year round but on Mother’s Day he knows how to bring it. All I want from him is a flower, a meal or two, something to unwrap, and the assurance that I don’t have to do anything resembling work for the day. Sure, I’ll read the kids a story or brush their hair, but only the fun parts of motherhood, not the ones that involve cleaning or bodily fluids.

Totally off topic but speaking of bodily fluids, Laylee’s current favorite song at church is called How Firm a Foundation and the last line of the first verse says, “What more can he say than to you he hath said, who unto the Savior for refuge hath fled?” She picks this song every time it’s her turn to pick a song and she sings it with gusto. I recently discovered why. She was sitting next to Magoo at our family night and finished, “…who unto the Savior for refuse hath fled. Hey, pst. Magoo. Refuse means poop and pee and stuff. Giggle.”

Um yeah. Upon further investigation, it seemed that she really did think those were the words to the song and hilarious words they were. She was so disappointed to find out what it actually said. Ah, the bitter realities of gaining greater knowledge.

Anyway. I did nothing today in a very deliberate sort of way. There were beautiful flowers purchased on Saturday and placed in the middle of the kitchen table with strict orders from Magoo not to look at them. He burst into my room this morning with a “HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY! Now you can look at your flowers!”

Dan got everyone ready for church while I slept in and he made my new breakfast obsession, steel cut oats, cooked to perfection.

The talks at church were upbeat and motivating and made me want to be a better mom… tomorrow… when I’m done laying about the house celebrating the fact that I am one.

Dan coached the kids well on buying me fun and thoughtful gifts and even put them in gift bags. He gave me a card with Michael Scott’s wisdom on parenting. He made dinner, did the hard part of bedtime, and cleaned the kitchen.

I feel refreshed and a bit spoiled and useless. I slept too much, parented too little, received too many presents and didn’t do enough for my own mothers. It was a good day but not a great day. I wish I’d played a game with the kids or spent some time talking with Dan while he slaved in the kitchen. Absolute slovenliness doesn’t really sit comfortably with me. In a way it was a good reminder that all these sick fat pregnant days when I feel useless at the end of the day, like I have nothing to show for myself, I’ve done more than I give myself credit for. In the future, I’ll just tell myself, “At least I got more done today than on Mother’s Day ’09. That was a doozey!”

It’s weird too because I got more praise, love and outpourings of support than on most other days of the year and it was the day I felt least deserving of it. Strange thing, this day of mothers.