Mother's Day

Happy belated Mother's Day, moms!  I hope you had a great day.  I know I did.  But moreover, I hope you all had a stress-free and relaxing day... because that escaped me completely.

I think it was destined to happen when the first words I heard yesterday morning were, "Mommy, where's my gun?"

"Gun?  What?  Huh?"

I threw myself out of bed to put a movie on for Cael before I realized that it was 5:17am and well outside the boundaries of the hours during which I feel required to feign interest in the needs of anyone other than myself.  But, because it was Mother's Day and I am oh-so caring, I gently led Cael back to his room and made him promise to get some more sleep.  I'd be helpful at 6:45am.

"Mommy, I still can't find that gun."  5:26am.

"Honey, it's still too early.  I don't want you running loose around the house this early."  I walked him to the stairs and listened to make sure he didn't hide out on the couch until I was unconscious again.

"Mommy, the orange gun.  For the wii!"  5:34am.

"Go back to bed."  I gave him caring at 5:17 and concerned at 5:26.  But at 5:34, I'm just irritated.  Unfortunately for me, by 5:42 I simply didn't care anymore. 

I managed to pull it together and we all struggled through church despite the early wake-up call.  Afterward, we headed into town for me to do a bit of Mother's Day shopping (new pajamas and a dress, as well as iTunes cards from the boys, hooray!) and to make an unsuccessful attempt at brunch.  On the way, Joel asked the boys to tell me exactly why I'm special to them.  They tackled the things I do for them, the games we play together and the things they love most about me.


"So who is the best Mommy in the whole world?" Joel asked.

"AMY!"

What an embarrassment of riches is this Mother's Day.  Perhaps it was simply the wrong approach.  Joel reverted back to being more specific.

"What is your favorite thing that Mommy cooks for you?"

"Bananas!"

"Crackers!"

Forget the riches.  Maybe it's just an embarrassment.

Whatever it was, it was good for a laugh.  So I giggled in the car with my husband and my two kids who prefer their aunt as we traveled to lunch.  We ate, we laughed, we whispered about a hostess that spoke a bit too loud about her personal life, and I almost forgot about how the day was almost spoiled by gun talk at five in the morning.

And then we got rear-ended.  Can I blame Cael for that, too?


 Probably not.  But because Joel and the man in the truck inexplicably traveling in reverse in the parking lot hit each other simultaneously, it was virtually impossible to determine who was at fault.  And since both men seemed to be trying to scrape together the remnants of a Mother's Day gone wrong, they surveyed the damage, decided that both vehicles were equally injured, and shrugged it off and went their separate ways.

We managed to make it home without any additional trauma, so I stashed the kids in bed, prepared to go for a walk on what was an exceptionally beautiful day, but was stopped short by a loud crash in the backyard.  Please, no guns.  Please, no more car accidents.  Just let it be my husband, fueled by the desire for a new basketball hoop, who started digging around the post for the existing device only to unsteady it enough to break clean off at ground level and slam to the ground.  Yep, sounds about right.

The rest of the afternoon was spent playing hunting games and hitting whiffle balls in the backyard, trying desparately not to let one of the kids fall into the massive hole left behind by our former basketball hoop.  Once secured, and with dinner in our bellies, Joel placed one more gift on the counter.

What was this?  A pad lock for Cael's bedroom door?  Touch-up paint for the van?  A voucher for a weekend with Amy, my kids' favorite mother?  A grate for the sinkhole in our yard?  Something really awesome and surprising to make up for the atrocities of the day?

"It's wrapped in our declined mortgage refinancing papers." he offered, and his pithy words perhaps should have prepared me for the reality of what was contained inside the box before me.  I gingerly pulled off the paper to find my Mother's Day gift, padded by foam and containing all of the legal paraphernalia necessary for Walther to be immune in the event that I should kill myself with my brand new gun.
 
Yes, I did finally agree to go shooting with my husband, not because I think I will enjoy it but because he likes it SO much.  And I meant it-- I will go because it is important to him.  But I have to confess that a pistol was not on my "must have" list.  Or on my "would like" list.  But in that moment, I knew exactly what to do.

Now I can't wait for Father's Day.  I just have to decide whether Joel is more suited for the fuzzy pink bunny pajamas he gifted me at Christmas, or if he'd prefer a $50 gift certificate to Michael's.  You know, so that he can choose whichever craft supplies he wants for himself.  It's so much more versatile in that way.

Happy Mother's Day!  Father's Day is just around the corner...