…happy mother’s day

I have never made light of Mother’s Day.

Never.

I know that many women are robbed of the celebration and I also know what it’s like to miss the guest of honor on her day. It is my greatest joy in this life to be the mother of my three children and I don’t, for a second, take that for granted. So, when I poke fun at the trials and tribulations of being a mother, please know that I do it with the full knowledge that I am blessed beyond anything I deserve.

And yet…

I sometimes wonder why I volunteered for this job. 

These people… these very people who, at one time, shared my personal space, ofttimes make me want to rent my own apartment… on a deserted island… that can be accessed only by boat… during a full moon.

Each morning, as I set about waking these blessings of mine; I walk to their rooms with a heart full of anticipation… within three minutes of them being upright I find myself researching early college admission with the hope they might qualify.

I have never met any other human beings who can so wildly affect my feelings for them with just their eyebrows like these three can. Furrowed, both raised, one raised… I’ve contemplated shaving them while they sleep.

Their father, a wonderful man who chooses to assert his authority by way of my mouth and voice, never seems to be around for the fun. When I give him a recap of the offending event he responds with, “Sorry, I was in the _____________ [bathroom, kitchen, basement, yard, alternate universe I’ve created in my head so that I can avoid all the chaos, shed, etc.].”

Abby had some teeth pulled last week. I rearranged my schedule, went to work early and stayed late a few days so that I could take her to the appointment. I got the girl a milkshake afterwards then went to the store for grilled cheese and tomato soup fixin’s (her choice). Dan put the soup in a pan and burned up some grilled cheese. She walked up to him, laid her head against his arm and said, “Thanks daddy.” As we took our seats at the table Cal said, “THANKS dad!” as if the man had just plated a 5-star meal that took hours to prepare.

Two days later, after hearing the boy mention tacos I hit the grocery store between loads of laundry and floor scrubbing. I – recklessly – forgot the sour cream. Dan zipped over to the store. “Dad saved the day!” “Thanks dad, you’re the best!”

The next night Cal played in a high school baseball game at the Altoona Curve stadium. I did feel bad for Dan, he couldn’t make it and I know he wanted to be there. I am lucky enough to have a job that allows me to make it to these events. Again, I went in to work early and by the time I stopped at the grocery store (after the game) for something to feed these ingrates, I had put 229 miles on my odometer. When I got home, Dan and I assembled and baked a breakfast casserole. Somewhere between his third and fourth bites Cal said, “Dad, this slaps!” (today’s equivalent to “yum”).

*DAD*… this slaps.

I can’t put a number to the forms I’ve completed over the course of three kids and 19 years of motherhood – but it’s a lot. School forms, health forms, band forms, sports forms – 3 kids, 8 sports between them and summer leagues… the numbers are staggering. Dan has filled in exactly 6 of them. Every time he does, the kid-in-need lets me know it… “I had to get dad to do my form – I asked you twice.”

“Where was it? I looked for it… then I emailed your teacher and asked for another copy, she’s sending one home with you today.”

“Mom! I have it… that’s so embarrassing – it was in my closet, under my sleeping bag. I’ll just tell her dad took care of it….”

For some reason dad being in the shower is off limits, mom being in the shower is go-time.

“Mom, where is my book bag?”

“Uhm… I don’t know, honey, I can help you look when I get out of the shower.”

“The bus is coming! I don’t have time to wait Mooooooommmmmm.”

“Well, where is your dad?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Did you ask him?”

“No.”

“Ok… just so I fully understand the situation… you were standing next to your father – ON DRY LAND – walked away from him and came to the bathroom to ask me to help you find your book bag – while I’m showering?”

…and there it is… the double-eyebrow raise

I’ve gotten phone calls at work, “Mom… [brother/sister] is being a jerk to me!”

“Isn’t your father home?”

“Yes?” the caller asks, clearly not understanding how my question is relevant.

So, I gotta say… when I see this meme:

My first reaction is: don’t be silly, nobody can find GOOD cargo shorts for under $15 but more importantly, why is my husband looking to buy me marked down shit? He had better walk into that jewelry store and offer to pay full price.

Listen fellas, I know times have changed. Hell, my father changed 2 (count them… TWO) diapers – one for my brother, one for me – and they had to be “number one”. He just “wanted to be able to say [he] did it.”

God bless my mother.

My husband, on the other hand, is an amazing, hands-on, father. My kids are lucky to have a father like him – and I’m lucky to have him as my partner in childrearing. I would estimate that he changed 47% of the diapers – even embracing those that came back to us in our nightmares… well – not actually, physically, embracing. I mean… there was a lot of sprinting with a baby dangling from the fingertips of outstretched arms… but he certainly didn’t shy away from a challenge.

He fed, clothed, bathed, read to and never once “babysat” our children (he simply referred to it as ‘being home with the kids while you are out’). But he is also the guy who called to ask me if he should put a coat on Alex before taking her to daycare… it was 55 degrees out AND the man has two college degrees… 

I’m looking forward to Mother’s Day; my three goons and Dan go all out. I’ve asked for everything from a day by myself (hated that) to a day spent floating the river (my favorite – especially when we can all be together) to material gifts; but what I most treasure are the handmade cards (yes! handmade – have you seen the price of greeting cards??? No wonder the man is bargain shopping at the jewelry store…). 

My kids are getting older, and while I miss the little-kid drawings and messy handwriting, is there anything more fulfilling than reading, “Mom, I can honestly say you are my best friend”? (even more endearing is – they know how to correctly punctuate!). 

I am so incredibly, breathtakingly, in love with these 3 people who routinely hang out on my last nerve and I will forever love their dad simply because… he’s their dad.

Although…

I am reminded of the day Cal was born – he was a planned C-section. We had gotten some snow overnight and Dan looked out the window, sighed heavily and lamented, “Well… I guess I’ll go shovel out the car.”

I slowly looked over at him and said, “Thank you… I guess I’ll go have my stomach cut open and have a person pulled out… if you would be so kind as to clear a path, first.”

Listen… buy the damn bracelet and while you’re out, stop and get yourself a pair of those cargo shorts… you need the pocket space for carrying all our phones and you know I won’t have time to order them by Father’s Day…