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Friday, May 6, 2011

A Decade in a Mother's Day

It's May, the month of Margaritas, Starwars' Puns, Birthdays and Commencements, and
Mother's Day...
Yeah, it's a little crazy at my house this month.

I have two teen sons at home -- well, one has one foot out the door -- so when it's boys against the girls at my house, it's me and the cat.
And she'd rather be with all the guys.

But I am Queen Mason, and she is only a Duchess, so I get my days. Valentine's, my birthday, and ...
Mother's Day.
There comes that point in every mother's life when she realizes that the handmade cards, breakfast in bed, dandelion bouquets and gifts of refrigerator magnets are coming to an end. When the daughter in law takes on the Mrs. ___ name, you're no longer Queen.
But there are a few years left for me yet, and I am determined to make the most of them.
No matter how bad it might get.

Please don't get me wrong. It's really sweet that my husband will elbow me early Sunday morning to say, "Wake up, I smell breakfast."
Well honey, I smell  smoke... and  I hear the overloaded exhaust fan over the stove rattling away to expel the fumes.
Not long until the smoke alarm goes off. If you've guessed by now that my oldest son is in the kitchen frying bacon in the skillet, you win a Hot Fireman Calendar.

We buy them every year-- one for each holiday that motivates our son, so eager to make us proud. by producing the Mason Holiday Breakfast of Bacon & Biscuits.
Somehow more smoke is produced than edible bacon. Never mind that I'd prefer fruit salad with greek yogurt and blueberry waffles with maple syrup.
It's not a holiday at our house without bacon.

Before we can say 'call 911'--  to save them the trip -- my fifteen year old  knocks on the bedroom door, does his eyeroll thing (averting his gaze to the ceiling above because O My Gosh his parents are in bed together what else will they do to ruin my life?)  and brings me coffee. One. Cup.
Nice of them to save me the last cup, huh?

And the cat...
Duchess jumps up on the bed and meows in my face with her dicey tuna breath: "Outta my bed, peasant!
And feed me the good stuff today!"

But the best part is the parade of my 3 Wise Men in their robes (and gym shorts)  bearing pink girly gifts. Only instead of gold, frankincense, and myrhh....
"It's the $10 engagement ring Kate Middleton wears! We got it half price, 'cuz we bought it last week after the wedding." Well, thanks.
Then I see the AsSeenOnTV icon  under the wrapping on the next gift.
"It's a Pedicure Egg! We thought you could use it."  Hmmmm.
Next -- "Dad said your Swiffer  must be broken, so we got you a whole new  kit!"
You shouldn't have.
Finally, a book --101 Self Affirmations for the Writer: How to Triumph Over Self- Doubt
 "Well, all you ever say is how your writing sucks. Thought you could use this."
There are no words....

It gives me the warm fuzzies....
I can't complain that my guys don't cook or help out around the house, don't see me, or don't listen--
I'm a mom who is showered with love. 

If you answer to Mom, Mimi, Grandma, or Auntie...
If you look towards the day when you'll hear your baby say "Mama"...
If you are a Dad, doing the superhuman work of both Mother & Father...
I wish you a Blessed and Happy Mother's Day this weekend, full of charred bacon, pets who are royal pains, and most of all, proud and loving children, no matter what their age. 

and your very own  Pedicure Egg.

A Bientot! 

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