I think Mothers' Day is rather dumb. Oh, sure, I was all excited on my first Mothers' Day after Redheaded Snippet was born. And then again the first one after Man-Cub was born. I also enjoyed the excitement of my sisters', Dharma's and Lobelia's, first Mothers' Days. But the Mothers' Days after our sons died, and then after Dharma suffered many miscarriages, and then after she suffered for so long with infertility and THEN after her twin girls died, were gut-wrenching, pain-filled days when we hid in our houses and wished the stupid day would JUST END already!
When you have no more fervent wish than to be a mother and that wish seems to be stolen from you or denied you, Mothers' Day is an incredibly sorrowful day. It seems the whole world is conspiring together to rub your failure as a woman in your face. I know there is no one that sets out to do that, but that's how it feels. And I can't even say I've had it the worst. I've been able to have children. There are many out there who never do.
Our family has since healed from our suffereings. And I won't pretend that that healing hasn't been helped by the arrival of new children. But while I may not still feel the pain of our sufferings, I still remember it. Vividly. Never more so than on Mothers' Day. And so Mothers' Day is a bit different for me. I don't demand or expect anything. I would be perfectly happy if we just ignored MD altogether. Let's just have a nice Sunday together. Don't go through the trouble of picking out a card or buying flowers. Don't spend money on taking me out to a restaurant. Just honor, respect and love me all the time I'll be just fine!
|This flowering vine has suddenly sprung up this year. We have no idea what it is.|
I was woken today to my handsome husband standing next to our bed bearing a tray laden with a homemade breakfast such as only he can make! Sausage and an omelet with green peppers, feta cheese and olives accompanied by a cup of my favorite Lavender Earl Grey tea and a vase of wildflowers from the backyard. Man-Cub was standing expectantly beside him, waiting for my rapturous response (Man-Cub LOVES breakfast in bed and thinks it's the luxury of luxuries--probably somehow related to all those meals I had to eat in bed whilst pregnant with him)!
|Another surprise. Wild strawberries, perhaps?|
When I came downstairs after having eaten and dressed, the entire place was tidied, swept and vacuumed! It was heaven! I felt a little ashamed at how easily he seemed to have been able to whip the entire place into shape, but I stuffed those thoughts back into the murky folds of my mind and simply relaxed. I fiddled around on the computer a bit. I uploaded some photos. I did a few crossword puzzles. And then I wandered around the yard for a bit, taking in the gorgeous weather and snapping photos of the springtime glories all around me!
Then I ran out of ideas and into The Viking pushing Man-Cub on the rope swing. He asked me what I wanted to do. I said I should take a shower. He asked, "Do you want to?" I said I didn't. He said, "Then don't." I then said I should dust-mop the bedroom floor since the rest of the house looked so wonderful. He asked again, "Do you want to?" I didn't. So again he said, "Then don't." I thought for a moment then said, "I should put those plants into the planters on the porch." He sighed and said, "But do you want to?" I said, "Actually, I really do." The Viking nodded, pulled Man-Cub to a halt and said, "Then let's go."
We went to Home Depot yesterday and bought all of the plants for the window boxes and the two new planters I found on sale at Shop Rite of all places. About ten minutes into the trip I suddenly remembered how little fun we have trying to pick out plants together so we decided to divide and conquer. I took the planters and he took the window boxes. We tried making it a contest and giving ourselves just ten minutes to meet back at the hanging baskets of lobelia with the plants we had chosen but we both took so long trying to decide that we wound up wandering around together anyway and eventually went right back to helping each other pick stuff out. The moral of the story is we work much better together when we're not trying so hard to do so. We are so silly.
|Ooooh, bacopa! Bacopa-bana! The hottest spot north of Havana...|
Now, usually I lose interest in gardening as soon as the plants are purchased. I am very good at pointing to buckets, baskets and flats and saying, "Oooooh, they would look nice around the house," but that's about where my gardening abilities and interests end. The Viking is the one who plants, fertilizes, waters, mows, weeds and prunes. So he wasted no time in gathering all the things I would need to pot those plants!
Of course, I made a nice mess. And did I mention I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing? Incapability Brown, that's me. I may have killed one of the poor plants I was manhandling today and I think the planters look like a four-year-old did them but they're DONE! And I did have the good sense to sweep everything up and clean up after myself. The Viking was so pleased.
There was just enough time after my gardening debut to read all the nice things Redheaded Snippet wrote about me on Facebook and have a delightful, little, grateful cry over them before it was time to clean up and gussy up for dinner with the rest of the family at my favorite Irish pub! I wore my fancy hat and split shepherd's pie and a whiskey chicken boxty with Redheaded Snippet and even indulged in a Guinness chocolate brownie as a reward for doing so well on my low-carb diet this week! And afterward, Daria and a family friend came back to the house where The Viking built a fire and we closed the day circled around it's warmth swapping stories and laughing.
All told, it was, in spite of my wariness, a very special and thoroughly enjoyable day. I am one very blessed woman...