Mother’s Day is kind of like the Superbowl or Academy Awards for moms. And, the week before Mother’s Day can resemble an extended pre-game show — at our house, at least.
This predictable, annual phenomenon may include:
Family members choosing sporadic sociability over phone use. By this I mean that when I come into a room, they look up and smile. They pause a moment and cheerfully answer my “What was the highlight of your day?” and perhaps two other questions before glancing down at their phones again. They may look up again at me and smile yet again if I loiter.
My older daughters peppering me with questions the Sunday before Mother’s Day:
Mama, what do you want to do for Mother’s Day?
What do you want to eat?
If it rains and we can’t go for a walk, then what do you want to do?
What’s your favorite store?
My youngest boys showering me with gushing, matriarchal flattery. Their compliments and gift-giving escalate in intensity throughout the week:
Monday: Here’s a picture I made for you — You’re the best mom ever.
Tuesday: I’ll open the door for you, most excellent mother!
Wednesday: You’re the best mom that anyone in the whole world ever had.
Thursday: You’re the greatest person ever. Except for God.
When asked, “What do you want for Mother’s Day?” there’s a teeny, tiny, selfish part of me that wants to spend *my day* alone on a remote, sunny beach inhaling an entire bag of salt and vinegar ripple chips all by myself, choosing drinks from a cooler packed with my favorite kombuchas, and soaking in the sun where no will talk to me for 24 hours.
But that would feel empty, and it would be as silly as Superbowl athletes hiding from the crowds inside the locker room, or movie stars heading to the Oscars, makeup-less in their sweats.
This is Mother’s Day — a day to shine; embrace my precious, living gifts; receive a million hugs; and absorb the fleeting moments that God has given!
Me and my precious ones…(minus one absent Air Force son)
The Papa & The Mama
Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord… Psalm 127:3