Tag Archives: Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day Still Around With Purple Crayons and Yoda Kites

19 May

It wasn’t a day off, but it was a day of appreciation.

I know Mother’s Day has come and gone and many are now forgetting that it had just taken place. The one day a year you’re supposed to wine and dine and show your mom all the love you got … and then the next day she’s off to wash the dishes again.

But during that quick transition from pedestal to laundry folder, a couple moments stayed with me the whole week. I’m still thinking about them today. I woke up thinking about them and they made me smile. You see during the Mother’s Day escape of the dishes adventure, we decided to go to the beach. It’s my haven. I hear the waves and I feel at peace. It usually shakes off any bad vibes that followed me during the week.

And even though I packed the lunches, filled the gas tank, lugged all the beach toys and dug the hole in the sand, I sat in my tan-colored Tommy Bahama chair, with my toes in the sand watching my daughter race the waves. It was something about that laughter of narrowly escaping the salty waves that captured my attention. She was in the zone. She was happy in the moment, not thinking of anything else, but the beach and her. And it made me smile.

I felt lost in that moment, so much so that I forgot to take a picture. I was just watching her and right then and there it felt good to be her mom. I mean most of the time on Mother’s Day you just want a massage and a nice dinner. You sure don’t want to be dragging a bunch of plastic toys from Target across those sandy hills. You want a day away from kids … a day of peace and quiet.

But for some reason I found the quiet of peace and the love of motherhood as she ran along the shore. She made my heart expand. I thought of the gift bag she made me in class and I felt like I deserved every purple crayon she used.

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And then the feeling continued when I turned to check on my son … there he was taking out his Star Wars Yoda kite from the wagon. I thought ah man I’m gonna have to break this trance of awesomeness and help put this kite together and run along a couple times until the kite takes flight.

But no.

He managed to do it by himself. Determined.

He put it together and then let out the line. He ran a few steps and launched Yoda into the sky … there he was flying with The Force, my young Jedi. He sat on the sand, making a plan, figuring out the physics of flight I imagine. Staring at the sky, maybe in appreciation of his triumph.

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I snapped a picture. He had continued what his sister had started. He got lost in the moment, fully engaged in Yoda’s flight and happy that he had done it himself. Happy in the moment, not thinking of the next, just happy right now.

He turned to look … to see if I was watching. He smiled, as I was, gave me a thumbs up and then turned around to keep flying.

Usually Mother’s Day comes and goes, and it’s back to the grind on Monday. But I found the quiet of peace on the beach that day and it’s still with me.  Definitely a good Mother’s Day gift.

Buen Camino my friends.

 

 

 

The Death of Wednesday

9 May

Dear Wednesday,

Here it was Thursday and you wouldn’t leave me alone.  You just had to follow me, like some crazed stalker. You tried sucking me back into that dismal state that only Wednesday drama can do. You followed me into Thursday, clutching onto my sanity and peace of mind. You suck, Wednesday.

Normally I don’t consider Wednesday “hump day” or get-me-to-Friday-already day, because when you’ve got two kids the days sort of blend together and they sort of lose their feeling. You don’t realize what day it is until you turn on AMC and see what’s playing. Although sometimes I wish my life was an hour-long drama or better yet a half-hour comedy. It could be wrapped up and resolved by the end of the episode and I’d be drinking coffee at the end of the day and smiling as the credits rolled. It’s too bad I don’t drink coffee. Everyone I know drinks coffee and they seem to be getting passed Wednesday just fine.

I normally let go of 24 periods that suck. I try not to have too many emotional hangovers because they rob me of the chance for a better day when the sun rises. But not today. Pinche Wednesday.

I needed it to be neatly wrapped up already. I didn’t feel like re-winding the events of the day and going through all the what-if scenarios. I was so wishing that Jack Bauer would swoop on in and save this nuclear mess that I call life. But Jack Bauer did not come.

It’s days like this that I don’t like gray hair or wrinkles or age 37. Days like this make me look in the mirror and wonder if I have any brown hair left willing and able to take on any new adventures out there. I know there’s Nice N’ Easy, but that’s like cheating. I don’t mind having gray hair. I like them when they are born out of excitement and living an awesome state of existence. Stuff like bungy jumping, zip lining, paddle boarding or anything ending in “ing” really. But when these gray little fiends rise out of the depths of despair during the “for worse” part of your days I’m not so much a fan.

No Wednesday you suck. You gave me a few new ones, and I wasn’t really happy about it.

And then it happened. The death of Wednesday, just like that and it was all because of a tea party.

A tea party.

I had forgotten that  I was invited to a pre-Mother’s Day Tea Party at my son’s preschool. In truth I wasn’t sure what to expect with some of the Children of the Corn parents planning to attend the festivities. But I promised my son I would attend, so I braced myself and forged on.

It ended up being exactly what I needed. Thursday rocked. It was definitely a cure to my emotional hangover.

 

The Invite

The Invite

 

The treats await.

The treats await.

 

On my placemat.

On my place mat.

 

The snack at the tea party.

The snack at the tea party.

 

These were gone by the time I took my second sip of tea. Most of them eaten by my son of course. I was glad that each table had its own ... I didn't want a riot to ensue

These were gone by the time I took my second sip of tea. Most of them eaten by my son of course. I was glad that each table had its own … I didn’t want a riot to ensue.

 

While snacking on treats I explored the Mother's Day folder created by son.

While snacking on treats I explored the Mother’s Day folder created by son.

 

His notes amused me.

His notes amused me.

 

This was his how well do you know your mom quiz. It definitely got a smile from me. He's usually asleep when I watch my AMC favorites, but he had some good answers.

This was his how well do you know your mom quiz. I wondered what the teacher thought as she wrote down his answers. It definitely got a smile from me.  I think he’s too young to know about AMC and HBO, so he stuck to the PG rating show.

 

My portrait. I'm smiling, can you tell?

My portrait. I’m smiling, can you tell?

 

The little goodie bags waiting for moms

On our way out the little goodie bags await.

 

Thursday … yeah … definitely the cure.

There’s Nothing That Two Margaritas Can’t Fix

13 May

There’s never been a more stressful Mother’s Day in my life. I was filled with anxiety the entire day and as a mom I shouldn’t have been. I should have been lounging by the beach or paddle-boarding. Instead, there I was … scrubbing toilets, up to my elbows in Comet, trying to be the bigger person.

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I hate being the “bigger person.” But I decided to go ahead and do it. It was Mother’s Day and apparently giving birth to me was tough, so whenever we have an exchange of sassy words this has always been my role — even if it wasn’t my fault.

That’s the way it is with old school moms. They are set in their ways. Even when they’re wrong, they’re set in their ways. You’re trying to live your life and here they come with their ways and then they go too far. They crossed the line. They know it. You know it. They know you know it, but they don’t admit it out loud. So you’ve adopted the role as the “bigger person”.  You don’t want to continue with the awkward moments and uncomfortable silences, especially on Mother’s Day.

So I grabbed my Mr. Clean latex gloves and got to work … like the Latina Cinderella. I was trying to do everything as quickly as possible. I swept. I vacuumed. I Swifted. Upstairs. Downstairs. On the stairs. I threw out the trash, cleaned the kitchen, scrubbed the toilets, and washed the sinks. It was smelling pretty Fabuloso in there.

I even went out in the middle of my cleaning duty to pick up some fruit decorative basket from Edible Arrangements. My sister purchased it and wanted to know if I could save her the delivery rush fee and pick  it up myself. So I did.

I put the presents, the fruit arrangement, the card, and the flowers on the table. She should be walking in shortly.

Once it was all done, I sat and the kids walked through door, ready for dinner. We wait. And wait. And wait. I’m starving. My dude is starving. The kids are playing with Legos. I call mom she’s on her way, but is curious as to why I’m asking. Curious?

What do you mean curious? Aren’t you starving? It’s passed your early bird special dinner time.

I already ate.

Ugh.

We grab the kids, put them in the car and drive to Ernie’s, the local Mexican Cuisine restaurant.

The waiter strolls up, ready to ask if we’d like anything to drink. Before he even makes a suggestion for the special of the day I say:

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Margarita, please.

He smiles and walks to the bar. After the appetizers are done and my glass is empty, would you like another?

Yes. Definitely.

Two margaritas and the day is forgotten. Nothing like two margaritas to help you enjoy the present and forget about the past five hours. Chips and salsa. Enchiladas. Flan. Mariachi music in the background. Good ambience, no meltdowns and two margaritas. There’s nothing that this combination can’t fix. 

Giddy up!