Tomorrow is Mother's Day. The day when our children make us breakfast in bed, a meal that more often than not consists of burnt toast and too strong coffee and arrives 2 hours after we woke up. A day when, if we're lucky, we don't have to cook any meals or clean any dishes. And if you can have a day not having to change any diapers... Whoa! Don't go crazy on the wish list now! One of my most memorial Mother's Days was about 5 years ago when we were moving from Little Rock, Arkansas to Franklin, TN. My mother's day gift was that I got to drive the car from Little Rock to Franklin with no one but the dog while Darrell flew in his plane with the kids. It was an awesome 5 hours. No joke.
But tonight in the midst of more chaos than usual, it occurred to me that we celebrate Mother's Day all wrong. Mother's Day isn't a real mother's day. I think we should celebrate a real mother's day.
How about when your day starts off at 4:00 am when Emma wakes up crying, so you bring her to your bed with you in your desperate need to get back to sleep only to have her climbing all over you and trying to get out of the bed? I woke up a mere 3 hours later, on a Saturday no less, because my high school senior son can't get his booty out of bed in the mornings to go to school. So he has to go to Saturday school if he has any desire of actually graduating in a week, but I had to get up to make sure he got up and out the door. Being tardy to Saturday school when your in Saturday school for tardies? Not cool.
The rest of the children began to crawl out from their hibernation and I fed them breakfast while continuously scooping Emma off the kitchen counter. I dare to leave to get my hair done and upon arriving home I discovered one of my toddlers had scribbled with Sharpie all over the dining room chair. (Three guesses which one and the first two don't count.) None of the little kids got naps because we took Trace out to lunch for his birthday. After lunch, the four younger kids played outside all afternoon which concluded with a free for all sand toss, of course landing in all their hair.
It was just me and the little kids so I made Ramen noodles and had the audacity add some frozen vegetables to the noodles in an attempt to make them somewhat healthy. Or course, I was met with great opposition which was somewhat suppressed when I suggested that if anyone wanted ice cream cake they had to eat their veggies too.
Trace and Cody were on a date, Ross was working, Julia was at a friend's and Emma was extremely fussy. I took her temperature and she was running a fever, most likely strep throat that she caught from Ryan. All she wanted was her mommy to hold her and rock her in the rocking chair. But I had two 3 year olds that were wanting my attention, not to mention that they had to have bathes. Their hair was full of sand.
As I was rocking Emma, wondering how I was going to get the boys in the tub, it occurred to me that the Octomom lost her ever lovin' mind. I had four kids 6 and under. What on God's green earth was she thinking with six and going for more? But hey, to each their own, I was in the middle of my own kid crisis and the nannies weren't showing up to take over.
It all worked out. Emma settled down. The boys and Jenna made it in the tub. Sand was extricated. Children were soon put to bed. And I realized it was days like today that need to be celebrated, the real days. I realized something else too. Crazy as it is, I love my babies and I wouldn't trade a thing. Maybe I'm more like Octomom than I thought.
1 week ago