The boys have come to love our brunch tradition, too. If we
are not out of town, we usually attend the brunch buffet at a local golf
course, and both kids will quickly note that it’s got a chocolate fountain. In
fact, that fountain was the first thing W inquired about when he found out we
had brunch plans this Sunday: “Is it the one with the chocolate fountain?”
S-Man after his chocolate fountain dessert in 2011 |
Yes, I’m looking forward to our reservation, and no, I won’t be dressing anyone in white this year.
Over the course of our marriage, Chris and I have agreed
that we don’t want much from each other in terms of gifts. But one of my most
memorable and favorite Mother’s Day gifts is a mother’s necklace. I received it
in 2007 when W was a baby, and it had 2 stones – one each symbolizing our new
baby and me. In 2010, the spring after S-Man was born, I noticed that my
necklace had disappeared from our closet, but kept my suspicions to myself –
and was beyond pleased when I got it back for Mother’s Day, this time with two
more stones added – these for our new son, and my husband.
I cherish my necklace, but mostly, though, I just want
brunch. And my scrapbook.
At the end of 2011, I asked my husband for an empty
scrapbook from the kids for Christmas; one with blank pages for them to fill, not me. They each can fill
in a page for holidays they deem worthy,
either major or minor (Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, my birthday)
and hopefully they won’t feel the need to purchase anything as a gift, because
I don’t want one (other than any other projects they plan and make themselves).
It’s perfect. It captures a bit of who they are in the
moment they drew their pages. Even as I’ve looked back through the pages with
W, he’ll note that he spelled words wrong in the past, or even that some of his
drawings, “aren’t very good.” I assure him that they are perfect, and it shows
just how much he’s learned and grown in such a short time. And that’s exactly
what I want to capture with my scrapbook.
I love the concept so much, I bought a “Daddy scrapbook” for
Chris, as well.
I can’t take credit for the idea. I read about it in a story
published in the May 2011 issue of Real Simple magazine. I’m not sure if this
is an idea I would have ordinarily picked up with so much passion, or if it was
simply the timing. Only a few months before I read this article, my Crohn’s
disease had placed me in the hospital so swiftly and forcefully that I had no choice but to acknowledge my mortality (a story I have yet to share here). Because of
this, I craved my children, the moments with them, and simplicity more. This
project fit the bill nicely, and still does.
This weekend, my parents are visiting, and so I’m fortunate
that I’ll also get to celebrate my own mother, as well. She’s not only the
woman who raised me, but is also the one who has dropped everything to help out
when I’ve been in the hospital, the one who’s hug I still sometimes need, and
the person who can still tell, over the phone, if I’m getting enough rest or
not. Thanks, Mom.
So many things in life are dependent upon how you’ve set your
expectations, and Mother’s Day (heck, motherhood)
is one of them. I don’t expect to have a “spa” day, nor do I want one. Last
night, W mentioned his concern about going to a friend’s birthday party on
Sunday afternoon, because, as he said, “I want to make sure I spend time with
you for Mother’s Day.” He’s right. I’m a mom because of him and his brother,
and this day isn’t just about me.
Yes, I would love to be pampered and have a day “off.” But I
also don’t want to be a Momzilla who puts so much emphasis on what I want for the day that I make my
children feel like spending time with them would be inconvenient or make me
unhappy. So, for Mother’s Day, I’ll have brunch with my family; I’ll ooh and
ahh over my scrapbook; and I’ll take the day off from laundry and hopefully
have a nap. But if I truly want to be pampered, I can make it a priority to
schedule that – a massage, girl-time, or something along those lines – any
other day of the year. This Sunday, I know what I’ll be getting – and that’s
all I need.
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