HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

        Early in our marriage, I told my husband I was not his mother, he was off the hook for Mother’s Day.

        Stupid me.   

        Children don’t do Mother’s Day without parental support, not even simple things much less breakfast in bed.  No big loss.  I don’t even like eating in bed.  It’s messy, and uncomfortable, and doesn’t allow for seconds.  Thanks to school and cub scouts, I received my first macaroni necklace and a Mother’s Day card decorated with stick figures, one of which represented me. 

         IN MY DREAMS! 

        My six children got older and remembrances got more sophisticated—meal prep and clean up, impressive art, flowers, grain mill, landscaping, interior decorating, and letters of adoration obviously written about someone else’s mom.  Or maybe it was a wish list.

        I asked my sister if she had a happy Mother’s Day.  “Yes” she said. “I had no expectations, so there were no disappointments.”  A mantra for contentment.  While laud, pomp, and circumstance is always welcome, expecting it is selfish and presumptuous and robs me of finding joy in the simple things—a phone call, an e-mail, even a macaroni necklace. This year, one of the most unexpected pleasures was a card from the grandchildren.  And an invitation from my number three child, —“Hey, Mom, I have to speak in Church today. You want to come?  I’m going to talk about our family problems."