It’s Mother’s Day weekend. And for the first time in twenty years this weekend isn’t “all about me”. My birthday always falls around Mother’s Day so we’ve always taken this weekend and made it “all about Mom”. On Saturday we go out and purchase whatever we need to plant flowers in the yard, then we spend the afternoon planting and working together, I typically cook dinner on Saturday night but some years we’ve went out to eat. Then on Mother’s Day morning I am served breakfast in bed – every Mothers Day but two, then some years we go on a picnic on Mother’s Day, if we were “in church” we always went to church. Many years I was served a lunch or dinner of nothing but steamed shrimp (by the pound). So many wonderful, wonderful memories for me and the one constant thing in my life.
Until this year.
This year my children aren’t with me. Rebekah is still serving in the National Guard in Afghanistan and sadly, Mark Jr has a band trip on Saturday and since he won’t get home until late Saturday night he’s not coming over on Sunday.
I’m hurt. I’m hurting. Yes, I “understand” but that doesn’t take away the hurt.
So this morning I got up bright and early, treated myself to Dunkin Donuts (a free treat thanks to RB), and hit several yard sales as I’m in dire need of some sort of cabinets and center island as well as curtains for this new place. Then I stopped at the local orchard and picked up some fresh cut asparagus for my Mom, ran a few errands, went out to my Mom’s, bought her some flowers for Mother’s Day, got a sandwich with her, came home, read for an hour or so, cleaned my house, did my cleaning job next door, went to WallyWorld, made dinner and am now preparing to finally, finally, finally crawl between the sheets.
Finally this day is over!