(A few) thoughts on Mother's Day...

In honor of Mother's Day, today's remarks are dedicated to the women who raised us, as well as those who are still actively in Mommy Mode. As for me, my darling sons both made cards at school...my favorite part of Riley's declared, "If someone is mean, I will help you get happy!" (Aw, thanks, honey. But if it's all the same to you, I sincerely hope no one is mean to me today!) Derek wrote a brief note on lovely flowered stationery (no doubt given to him by his teacher). It read as follows: "Dear Mom: Thank you for cooking dinner and giving me my allowance. I could not buy video games without my allowance. Love, Derek." WOW! That boy just oozes gooey sentimentality, right? (It does, however, accurately and succinctly pinpoint the two most pressing concerns in his life at the moment: food and electronic entertainment. At least I get credit for providing him with his absolute favorite things...) I also was gifted with dark chocolate ("it's what's for breakfast"), allowed to sleep in, greeted by the aroma of freshly-made coffee when I ventured downstairs, and treated to Husband-prepared deviled crab for dinner. All I needed was a tiara (darn it, I keep meaning to get one of those) to complete my Queen for the Day celebration.

After eleven Mother's Days, it's funny for me to reflect now that, for a large portion of my 20s, I harbored deep doubts that I even wanted to have children. For whatever reason (and don't ask me; who knows what my fun and frivolous post-graduate-school persona was thinking), I suspected that I was just Not Motherhood Material. (Heck, some days I still wonder if I'm truly cut out for this job!) But obviously I took the plunge anyway, and so far seem to be doing okay bringing up two nutball children. What does that mean? Well, no one's lost an eye with a Nerf dart, no one's face has frozen that way, and no one's gone blind from sitting too close to the TV. (So judging by Old Wives' Tales, I'm batting a thousand!) Of course, since they're boys, I keep at my disposal, to apply at my own discretion, the Universal Disclaimer: "It's Your Father's Fault." And there are days that I just gaze upon my offspring, scratching my head and wondering, "who are these incomprehensible people, and why are they so bizarre? Like yesterday at the dinner table, when I actually heard these words coming out of my mouth: "Do NOT lick food off your brother's arm!" (I mean, it seems to go without saying, yes?)

My point is that Moms and Dads inevitably accumulate a vast assortment of anecdotes--running the gamut from the heartwarming, to the heartbreaking...to the ridiculous. (Ooh, lucky for my children--I write them down and publish them for others to enjoy along with me!) Well-meaning, earnest Parental Veterans can impart helpful advice about feeding babies, and getting them to sleep, and changing diapers without...incident...but no one can ever fully prepare you for dealing with unpredictable little human beings on a regular basis. For example, in my pre-mother-of-boys life, I could not possibly have imagined participating in the following conversation: Me (cautiously): "Derek how's your...soccer injury feeling this morning?" Derek (emphatically): "Oh, my nuts are sore!" (Sigh. Can we at least call them...oh, nevermind.) Nor could I have predicted that at some time in the future I would find it necessary to firmly state, "Riley, you must put some clothes on before coming down to eat with your family! (He was fresh out of the shower, dancing gleefully at the top of the stairs, shaking...well, NOT what his Mama gave him, obviously...having shed his towel in favor of..."air drying". I believe I then added: "It is NOT naked-dinner-day!" And the answer to the next obvious question is: no, in fact it is never naked-dinner-day, much to the boys' unending disappointment.)

So, here's to another year of exploring the Mysteries of Males (Step 1 apparently is: make them get dressed. Who knew?) Hopefully there's enough chocolate to see me through...and no one loses an eye over it!