This is a day late (and as always I’m a dollar short 🙂
We had a great Mother’s Day. We were at home. I went on two bike rides. I was showered with gifts and two types of pie. And we had a wonderful lunch on the patio with my mom, stepdad, brother and my ‘sister’ (my SIL but my sister).
Lovely. But like any holiday, it’s a little different with a kiddo like Samantha. I would like nothing more than for her to wake me up at 6:00 with a bowl full of soggy Cheerios announcing that I am getting breakfast in bed.
I am also recovering from my hospital funk. Hospital funk is the ‘down’ you feel after too many days of sleeping to little, too much stimulation and too much adrenaline. I always takes me a week or two to get my home routine going again.
So, where to go with my Mother’s Day post? Blah.
And then it hit me.
Mother’s Day is not about me. It’s about the people who mother me.
So here’s a word….to my Mother’s
Here’s to our Base Camp. You know who you are. Here’s to Mom, Dad, Cynde, Jim; the fabulous four who drop everything when we’re on the 8th floor to feed and clothe us; make sure we get out. They ask questions, provide another point of view, give support and love our family. If you’re climbing Everest, make sure you have this base camp. They will sustain your body and spirit as well as shower you with Spicy Pickle sandwiches and the best pot roast ever.
Is there anything better?
We have our ‘hospital mom’. Our Dr. E who looks after all of us as if we were her own. I have not seen it, but I have a suspicion that she will take on a team of doctors with Mama Bear fierceness when Samantha’s care is in question. I adore this woman.
Moms who I knew as moms growing up. They look after me as if I was their own child; sending meals, goodies, notes about my own welfare.
My friend moms, who are balancing their own busy life; have their own families. You who schedule time in to visit the hospital, bring sandwiches, meals, frog pins, People magazines, cards, bamboo plants for good luck, make signs, bring balloons, zen mix, cookies, fruit, call, email, drive 50 miles in a rain storm to meet me for dinner.
And to my women who say ‘Well it may be Mother’s Day but I’m not a mom.’ HA! You have protected and provided for us….mothered me with a shoulder to cry on, a glass of wine, the best brownies the world, quilts, cookie baskets, flowers from other countries……
You know who you all are. My band of mommies making sure I stay honest and somewhat sane.
You’re doing a great job….I can be a somewhat unruly child 🙂
Happy, happy, happy Mother’s Day….