Mother’s Day was just like any other day in my life as a busy mom of two...hectic! Saturday was filled with errands and a trip to visit family. By the time Mother’s Day came along, I hadn’t really even thought about the fact that I was supposed to be celebrating too. I mean, I am a mother after all. That hit me Sunday morning and I started feeling a little sorry for myself. There was nothing special for me on Mother’s Day. Our Sunday was already planned – church, a trip to my mother-in-laws and then to my parents’ house to celebrate my mom.
I was hoping to get out of bed and find a surprise gift waiting for me… nothing. Oh well, I understand. My husband’s a busy man. He was already gone to work by the time the boys and I got out of bed that morning. Although, I did remember him asking for my car keys before he left. Maybe he put a surprise in my car. I hung onto that idea for the rest of the morning.
Like every Sunday, I rushed around getting myself and the boys clean, fed and dressed for church – always a daunting task. It takes a small miracle for us to make it out of the house on time, but somehow, we did it! Maybe it was the thought of a potential gift waiting in my mini-van that motivated me.
I loaded the boys into their respective car seats, glanced around the van, and…nothing. No gift, no card, nothing. Now I was really feeling sorry for myself. Did anyone remember that this is my day too? I’m a mom too, for Pete’s sake! I wasn’t expecting an elaborate gift or anything. A simple card would have been just fine. Oh well, off to church we go.
After church, the hubby and I round up our crew and get ready to load up again to head to his mom’s house. With kids in tow, we make a pit stop by his office (he works at the church if I didn’t mention that earlier). He takes off into his office with our oldest, 2-year-old Jude. I’m just a couple steps behind with our 5-month-old Beckett. After stopping to say hi to a few friends, I look up and Jude is running out of his daddy’s office struggling to hang onto a bouquet that’s almost as big as he is. He stumbles toward me, presents the flowers and very proudly says, “Happy Mother’s Day, Daddy!” He smiles, wraps his arms around my legs and then corrects himself, “Uhhh..Mommy!” I knew what he meant and that said it all. My husband walked up behind Jude and handed me cards from my boys with a big smile on his face. I should have known I wasn’t forgotten. I felt silly for throwing myself a mental pity-party. My boys came through and I had a great Mother’s Day.