As a mom, there are many things I love about Mother's Day. I love that I don't have to cook or clean up or do laundry. I love that when my kids are crying or whining or making endless demands, I feel justified in saying, "Go ask your dad." I love that my husband takes on all the diaper changes and sibling arguments and tears and needs so that I can relax. I love that I can enjoy meals and conversation at family gatherings without feeling the need to supervise my offspring at the kids table. And I love the joy my kids get in showering me with hugs and surprises and homemade gifts.
I know there will come a day when my kids are grown up. They may buy me jewelry or gift cards or trinkets. They may give me a nice, sentimental Hallmark card. They might take me out to lunch or invite me over for dinner. I know that I will cherish that as well. But I also know that, as they grow, I will miss the sweet, misspelled sentiments and the handprint art and the time and effort put into making something special to give to me.
This year, Staley made a "lap book" for me at school. It was a book all about me. It had such wonderful sentiments like "I love my mom more than cats." and "She loves me because I wash the dishis." and "I love her because she loves me." It also had very honest observations like "My mom likes to wear swet pants." and "She hates to fold lodry." Or my favorite, "My mom is always saying, "You wil be late fur shcool." And my favorite spelling was when she wrote that I am an "ocupashinl therupist" and that I love to "ecsrsise." Couple that with my handprint sunshine from Adelie, the cookbook that Staley's class made, and the multiple pictures and paintings that my girls created for me, and I couldn't have felt more loved. Even more than cats.