Mother's Day...It is coming

I have a memory like an elephant but for some reason, I cannot think of one gift I ever gave my mom for Mother's Day.  Not one.  Funny.
I wonder if she can remember any of the gifts I have ever given her?

I thought about my kids and the gifts they have given me and I get confused with my birthday being in April.  Maybe they did give me the yellow iris plants for Mother's day but I do think the "button" gave me those for my birthday?  I don't remember.

It is funny, don't you think?

Once you become a mom, everything, seriously, everything changes.  I cheer turtles on as they cross the highway or pick them up when I can.  After all, they are some poor mom's kid.

Mother's Day is so different after you become a mom.  It isn't about the gifts they give you...or the breakfast in bed or the new nightgown...it really is about what you take from them and how they remember you.

When I was totally down and out about the "button", a policeman stopped me in my driveway one day to talk.  He informed me that he worked at "summer camp" and knew my son.  I have mentioned this story before.  The policeman told me how the "button" slept during the day and then stayed away at night and would talk to this man "through the door."  I have no idea what that really meant so I just went with it.  Anyway, the policeman told me that "your son has told me about your Christmas garland going up the stairs about 50 times and next year I am stopping by to see it.  He told me that is what he misses most about Christmas."

I never knew anyone cared about the garland.  My new policeman friend died of a sudden heart attack and never got to come see the fake garland with kid's Christmas ornaments and white lights.  Nothing extraordinary or clever, but my son thought it said "Christmas".  Not the gifts, not all the stuff that goes with Christmas, but the simple garland.  This simple garland makes me laugh. It is fake (I hate fake garland but it is the south and sometimes 80 at Christmas) and so ordinary but now it makes me laugh and smile. 

Walker "loves my crockpot".  We all know Walker loves what comes out of the crockpot.  "Mom, when I hear you open the door where your crock pot is, I get happy. "  "I tell all my friends about your crockpot."  I think my crockpot would have been a magical character in Beauty and the Beast if he had written the story.  The magical crockpot would have been a gold server and then turned into a big, massive, bulky hunk with big arms the size of hams and buns like turkeys.  And he will come in the door and see bubbles under the lid of the crockpot and say, "you are the best mom ever, my favorite meal is in there, did you get the penne?"  And he laughs. 

Addie says what she will remember about me is that I "have no ass (cause I swallowed it) and how we would look at one another and laugh.  And we knew why we were laughing.  Even when nobody else was laughing.  And we can hear or see the same thing and crack up "at the same time".  She thinks that is so funny.  I do too. 

What I remember most about my mom growing up was the way she packed my lunch.  It was perfect.  Others envied my lunch.  And she always called us "punkie" short for pumpkin.  And she laughed.  She yelled, a lot, but she laughed with us. 

My mamaw would always shake her head when something seemed absurd to her.  Sometimes she would take her crocked finger (she had one) and would point it in the air to make a point to us kids and we were just mesmerized by the crocked finger.  We didn't listen to her because we were too busy laughing at the crocked finger.   And she let me sleep in her bed or bedroom with her with the Shalimar smelling sheets.  And there were always gumdrops I the second drawer.  Always.  Maybe orange slices instead of gumdrops but same consistency. And when I would open up the drawer to get one she would yell, "get out of there" and I would laugh with a mouthful of orange slices. 

I think if you were to ask any mother who didn't have a mom anymore, they would only want one gift, an afternoon, a car ride, one more chance to say thank you and I love you. One more conversation.  Just one.

I think about moms who have had to bury their kids and what they wouldn't do for a cardinal, a penny or a rainbow on mother's day or better yet, a magic wand that would turn back time.

I think about what my kids have been to me in my heart and the laughter they have provided me.  Adeline went on a rant the other day imitating me and it was really funny, especially the "my nerves are shot moment".  She was hilarious. 

When I look back at my time with them, I never remember the diaper changing or the times they were up all night and or even the night all three of them threw up for hours. 

So when all three are adults, what part of me will they take with them?  Will that be my gift to them?  And what will be my greatest gift from them?  Will it be that they still call me and want me in their lives?  What will it be?  And will they call their friends and complain about me?  Of course they will.  They do that now.  Will the fact that they want me to be a part of their lives when all of us are older be my greatest gift from them?

I had no clue when I became a mom.  None.  I thought I did.  I read books.  I babysat, a lot.  I had this.  I had no idea.  If I did get my mom a gift....it could never be a as grand or great as what she did for me.  I had no idea (and these are in no particular order) that I would buy my kids shoes while I was still wearing maternity underwear (the baby was six), I could go on such little sleep, I could hear their voices and know who was getting sick and with what, that I would drive thru the drive thru and forgo the "homemade meal" and that sometimes ice cream is for dinner, chips and dip too.  I had no idea I could pull puke out of someone's hair, have a spread butt inches from my face to check for tics and I would scan a body for ringworm and treat it without wanting to puke at any of these. 

I didn't know I could make such dazzling di-a-ramas and still get A's and I didn't know how inept I really was in Math.  Never did I know the importance of getting "glitter shoes" when the entire kindergarten class had them (even if they were one size too small) or that Power Rangers underwear really do make you pee in the potty.

I had no idea the importance of this Saturday morning question, "mom do we have to leave the house today?" Some time just  laying on the couch on rainy Saturday watching Dragon Ball Z is how you get promoted to Mother of the Year. 

I always thought if my windows were free of fingerprints and that if the sheets smelled like fields of lavender and my oven had something in it, I was doing it all right.

I didn't know that I would pay for vacations with change or frequent the Coinstar in between paydays.  I had no idea that I would clip coupons or whip out my phone with that 40% Hobby Lobby coupon like a champ.  I had no idea that I could make three meals out of a chicken that was buy one get one. 

I didn't realize how important it would be to not talk on the cellphone when you are car pool mom.  I didn't realize how important it was to be a carpool mom.  I didn't realize that my kids would go behind my back and ask their friends if my pasta was good or did they really like my cake.  When I asked my kids about going behind my back to check up on me they said, "we just wanted you to be at your best
mom."

I never knew that my heart would be broken even more than theirs when they were sad and devastated and there was nothing I could do to ease the pain.  Without a doubt this single thing makes being a mom suck.  But, I never knew I could my big girl panties on and find the positive in those disappointing and devastating moments.  They still really suck though. 

I had no idea that I would learn to love wrestling, Boy Scouts, horseback riding, cheerleading (not all the way there yet) or track.  I had no idea that I would be rejoicing over the way I could get a catchers pants so clean.  And then brag about it.  I had no idea that I could pick up four sweaty football players and the gear and not gag or simply say, "You all stink.  Bad.  Like Ass."  And I had no idea that I could sit the entire day at a dance recital and love every minute of it. I had no idea that most of my best friends would be from these moments. 

There was never a gift that I presented to my mom that would ever mirror what she had done for me or provided for me. 

I wonder what my mom learned being a mom?   I wonder what her mom learned?

And I wonder what my mom thinks about when she thinks about Mamaw.  If my mom could sit one more hour with her mom, what would she ask or say?  What were the gifts they gave one another?


When I think about being 20 years older....and I go to visit my kids...and the spouse's parents are like 53 and I am 76...I want them to still see me as young and fun and hip....totally hilarious because I am not that now....but maybe there is hope.  I want them to say  "remember that time mom...." and we laugh. Laugh hard. 

That is what I want for Mother's Day....I want it in concrete that this will happen and I will be present in mind and body for that moment.  This will be the ultimate Mother's Day forever gift. 

I hope this happens for all of you mom's too.

And if your mom is gone, I hope you look up to the sky and laugh and smile.  She will smile back.

And if you are a member of "the club", I hope you get to look into the sky and yell, "thanks for making me laugh, I hope I made you laugh too."  And your child will send you a message that will make you smile. 

Happy Mother's Day.