Every Day is Mother’s Day!
Yesterday’s Hallmark Holiday wasn’t much different than any other day, except for its unusually early start. Excited to wish me a happy mom’s day, Maggie woke at 5:30 with a happy holler. (It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t finished folding my last load of laundry last night at 11:45. Any mom who’s discovered the secret to taming the laundry lion, please comment!)
By 6:30, Maggie had made me breakfast (Okay, so she sat on the counter and sprinkled flour all over the floor while I whipped up a coffee cake, but she did clap her dough-covered hands in appreciation of my baking prowess). By 7:30 my husband had headed to the hospital to take care of his patients, and I’d headed back to the coffee pot for a refill on my morning vice.
Knowing that getting to church was going to be a solo endeavor; I’d hopped in the shower two hours early just to make sure I would be sporting washed hair on my special day. Maggie’s internal mom’s-not-looking alarm sounded while I went the extra mile and shaved my legs. So by the time I stepped towel-clad into the master bedroom, my busy baby had created a gorgeous nacho Dorito-chip mosaic on my cream carpet. Maggie’s exuberance was contagious. She danced barefoot in the orange crumbles and chanted, “Mama! Mama! Mama!” I hugged my little artist and went in search of the dust buster (The best mother’s day gift I’ve ever purchased for myself ).
Little did I know, as Maggie was honing her creative skills, Joshua was pooping in every potty in the house. I suppose you could say he’d created his own abstract art, since he’d left a brown smudge on all three toilet seats. Evidently, the running water in the shower had drowned out my three-year-old’s plea for TP assistance. When I failed to respond immediately, he headed to his bed and used his baseball sheets as a substitute for the flushable wipes.
Once I’d stripped Joshua’s bed and filled the washing machine with linens, I rallied the troops and asked them to put on their shoes. One glance at the clock and my optimism buoyed. We still had twenty minutes until Sunday school began;I was hopeful we might actually arrive on time. That in itself would make Mother’s Day an extraordinary day. I survived the shoe frenzy–No! You can’t wear socks with flip flops. Josh, your muddy crocs are NOT church shoes. Hannah, I told you to put on tights, where are your tights? Liz, those shoes look to small, do you have another pair—covered every last foot and grabbed my keys. I couldn’t believe it; I was living a mother’s day miracle; we were actually heading to church on time! I buckled everyone in the van and then noticed Maggie’s empty car seat.
Panic assaulted my confidence. Where’s Maggie? As if on cue, Maggie toddled into the garage with a tube of lipstick in hand. She flashed me a RAISINBERRY smile and swatted at her diaper.
“Are you stinky?” I sighed. Maggie just laughed and ran into the yard. While my kids screamed from the car our family mantra–”We’re late! We’re late!”– I wondered for the hundredth time why the nasty diapers always materialize when we’re trying to get out the door.
I added Maggie’s new sundress to the poop-streaked sheets in the washing machine and secured my bright-lipped baby in her car seat. We arrived at church as the praise team was wrapping up, but just in time for me to fulfill my assigned duty in the nursery. The job had sounded simple when I’d said yes: just walk the three year children downstairs to music time and supervise their participation. Eager to show me his music room, Joshua walked beside me with a grin, until we reached our destination.
As soon as the teacher gathered the youngsters on the carpet squares for song time, Joshua changed his tune.
Slipping on obstinacy like a comfortable cloak, my youngest son refused to participate in the happy songs. He writhed on the floor while I jumped around the carpet squares singing “Jump for Jesus” and wishing I’d politely declined the invitation to be a volunteer. After apologizing to all the teachers for my preschooler’s defiant behavior, I wished each one a happy mother’s day. Then, humbly, I rounded up my girls and carried my kicking and screaming son to the mini-van.
For lunch, I served two rounds of corndogs (our own dog ate the first batch as three children stood by and cried) and tried not to think of all those Mother’s Day buffets advertised in our local paper. As I scrubbed the breakfast dishes that had been left unattended in the wake of our make-it-to-church relay, I fielded a call from my husband. After wrapping up his hospital rounds, he had assumed the role of chaffuer for our eldest son. He was calling from the bleachers of a baseball field nearly sixty-miles away. He reported the stats of the first game, then asked:
“How’s your Mother’s Day going?”
Glancing at the gorgeous boquet of spring flowers my man had left me in his absence, I replied, “I certainly feel like a mother today.”
By 3:00 I had managed to clean up both lunch and breakfast dishes, to enjoy a little more one-on-one time with my friend the dust buster and to bribe my kids with a Scooby Doo cartoon so I could finally sit down. As I curled up on the couch, Hannah climbed on my lap. “Mom,” she said with a giggle, “Why do we even HAVE a Mother’s Day? After all,” she mused with a shrug of her shoulders. “EVERY DAY is MOTHER’S DAY!”
At that moment, Maggie toddled my way with a dirty diaper sagging between her knees. “You’re right, Hannah,” I agreed “EVERY DAY IS MOTHER’S DAY.”
Today’s Treasure: Her children stand and bless her. Her husband praises her. ‘There are many virtuous and capable women in the world, but you surpass them all!’ -Proverbs 31:28
This was very inspiring to me as I lay in bed my with my almost 3 year old tonight just wishing he would fall asleep without me in there…exhausted knowing next its on to nursing my 9 month old to sleep…all the while just wishing I could enjoy some quiet time with my husband! Sigh…you’re right, everyday is mothers day. And in the midst of the exhaustion and yes, the timely poopy diapers RIGHT when you’re walking out the door, just when we’re ready to toss up our hands and say “really how much more?” We realize we’re made for this job and our kids are precious blessings from God. Thank you for your blog and being a christian voice to my novice mommyhood! -Jesi Kauzlarich…I used to cut your kids hair some at topaz before I left to stay at home with my kids. I also heard you speak at mom 2 mom and it was wonderful.