I nominate Mother’s Day as “most exasperating holiday” in the entire year. Whether you are trying to plan something for your mother — or your spouse — or just for yourself, it is uphill sledding.
Flowers? Candy? Dinner out? Every angle has already been thought of… and commercialized… and the pressure is on.
Which might be why I was having so much trouble planning something for this year’s celebration.
But before I could get very far, I was distracted by the aroma of coffee wafting toward me — something that hasn’t happened since … well, since I became a mother. Mmmm! Coffee!
But I was reluctant to reach out for a sip; years of experience have taught me to wait, first, for little bodies to land in bed beside me and finish joggling my arm. But they are grown now, standing self-consciously beside their Dad, asking politely would I like to come downstairs?
Years of experience have also taught me that “I’ll be right down” was the correct answer. Well, years of experience plus my husband’s hand signals in the background, where only I can see them. “Um, I’ll be right down?” Thumbs up for “Good answer!”
Once downstairs, I see that a feast awaits us: scrambled eggs, toast, and orange juice, along with more coffee, and places all set at the dining room table. “The boys made it all,” their dad says proudly. “Except the coffee. I made that.”
After brunch, the boys clear and we adjourn to the kitchen, where I watch them argue over whose is the right way to put things in the dishwasher. The physicist wants to “maximize exposure to the water jets” by placing smaller plates in the center, and forks in front of spoons. The economist wants to “optimize the work load” by getting all the largest plates in, leaving smaller ones for later. While they bicker, I pour myself a third cup of coffee. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had three cups in a row, when they were home!
“Why don’t you take your shower now, Mom?” says one boy. “Before the dishwasher uses up the hot water?” adds the other.
Such thoughtfulness! Unless they’re trying to get me out of the way? When I return, they seem to be just finishing sealing up some envelopes.
I pretend not to notice. “Now, what should we do with the day? Ideas, anyone?”
“Where would you like to go, Mom?”
“That depends. Who’s driving?” I ask.
Perhaps, like everyone says about wild animals, they can smell the fear on me. “Dad is; he says that way you can relax.” Dad got that right!
“But where to, Mom?”
“Surprise me.”
And surprised I am, when we pull up at the Nassau County Museum of Art, in Roslyn. This is the place I used to take them, every Mother’s Day, only to hear so much whining — “Do we have to?” and “What, again?” — that I’d finally sworn off of it.
As we park and walk toward the building, the older boy exclaims, “I remember this place!”
“So do I!” agrees the younger one, and they wander off, not exactly arm in arm, but together.
Here’s the best part: now that they’re old enough to find their way back without us, my husband and I can just sit on a bench, and wait.
“You know, Mom, I don’t know why I used to mind it so much; this place is kind of nice.”
“I wonder what they have inside the building? Did we ever get there?”
I decide to quit while I’m ahead. “You know what? This has been such a perfect day. Let’s go home and have ice cream.”
And after letting them watch an episode of their beloved (ugh) “Walking Dead,” I open two envelopes that were, indeed, for me.
They have each made me a card. One promises to help me with gardening at least two weekends this summer. The other promises to help with hanging 3 pictures of my choice, and to leave the toilet seat down more often.
Wait, what’s happening? the picture is getting fuzzy…someone is shaking me…
“Judy, Judy, wake up, it’s Mother’s Day. What would you like to do for your special day?”
“Just let me go back to sleep!”
A gal can dream, can’t she?
