Mother's Day Week

To my mom

There are so many things that make you who you are. I couldn't possibly sum it all up in just a few paragraphs, or pages, for that matter. So I enlisted some help. Together we have racked our brains, smiled, laughed, cried, and felt pangs of homesickness, all to pay tribute to you, and your wonderful self.

Remember all those times you had to sit with me in school? Sorry.
I laugh when I think of all the times we had church activities, and you were always in charge. Always.
Making sandwiches on the cooler in the boat, and you only forgot the knife once.
The smell of Gardenia lotion in your bedroom.
The way you have the B. in your name.
Putting your family first, even when it's hard.
Discovering that you might have a bit of a rebel in you. Just a bit.
Au Gratin potatoes and chicken noodle soup. And Nasi. And turkey dinner, and rolls, and roll-ups, and I think we eat too much...
The way you send out cards "just because" to random people.
The way you keep friends for a hundred years.
Trying to find your way out of the ZCMI parking garage.
Keeping your cool when your sweet Cadillac lost the brakes on the way home from the mall.
Flying away at a moments notice when one of us needs you.
Using the "facilities" in a nice new house, when there was no running water.
Always saying "this too shall pass" and other fine words of wisdom.
Staying calm when the motorhome battery exploded, and just blowing out the flame.
Saying "Time to find a beach".
Pokey.
The yellow Blazer.
Your beautiful fingernails.
The way you love every piece of jewelry you've ever owned.
Shoes. Shoes. Shoes. Shoes. Shall I go on?
And last but certainly not least, QVC.

Mom, we love you. You are the rock we cling to, the light in our tunnel, and most of all, our friend forever. We couldn't do any of this "life" stuff without you.

Happy Mother's Day

*Thanks to all the sibs who helped out with this. Hopefully we aren't written out the will. Yet.

Mother's Day Week

Things I've learned about being a mother from other mothers.

Being a mother means more than just bearing children.
Being a mother means not always being friends with your kids.
But knowing when you need to be.
Being a mother means watching your kids try, and fail.
Being a mother means waiting for your kids to make the right decisions.
Being a mother means just listening while your kids cry.
Being a mother means not taking anyone's side.
Being a mother means working through the pain.
Being a mother means trying to do it all, but not feeling guilty when you don't.
Being a mother means understanding that your kids could never possibly love you as much as you love them.


Stay tuned for a special post tomorrow.

Mother's Day Week

More of why I love being a mother.


Look at that face. How could I not just want to eat that face? She is so funny. I love being a mother because my kids make me laugh, at least several times a day.


As you can see, we were having fun with the hose yesterday. It was nearly 80 here, and wonderfully summery. The kids were a little hesitant at first, what with the cold hose water and all, but it didn't take long for them to "warm" right up to the idea of spraying themselves, and each other. I love being a mother and seeing my kids forge ahead through their fears.


And this is what happens when Mom and Dad sleep on a Saturday morning. This is how a 4 year old gets her own breakfast. Note the cut open box, and of course the opened bag of marshmallows. And what does a mom say about this mess? "Good job", of course. I love being a mother and teaching my kids independence. I love seeing them learn new skills, and seeing their self-esteem rise due to praise for their good decisions.

There are so many reasons I love being a mother. The more I think about it, the more my joy swells. Mostly I just love that I have this job, with basically no prior skills, and I feel like it is a natural fit. Even though I'm not the most nurturing, huggy touchy feely mother, I feel like teaching my kids to do things on their own, and stand up for themselves is just as important as holding their hands and carrying them around. Don't get me wrong, I do my fair share of hugging and kissing, they certainly aren't neglected in that area, it's just not my strong point. But that's okay. I hope I make up for that in other areas.

Mother's Day Week

Why I love being a mother

• It makes me do things I would otherwise never have courage to do.
  
• It makes me see things from a smaller, more innocent perspective.
• It makes me more confident in my decision making skills.
  
• It makes me rely on faith and promptings in a way I have never known.
  
• It makes me stick to my guns, and stick up for my kids.
  
• It makes me see how lucky I am to have healthy, happy kids.
  
• It makes me appreciate my own mother more than ever.
  

Why do you love being a mother?

Feliz Cinco De Mayo

Mexican food. I love it. Like as in LOVE it.

And today we celebrate by eating Mexican food.

I have no idea why Cinco De Mayo is a holiday, I think it has something to do with freedom from the French or something, but I really don't care. Any excuse to eat Tamales, and Enchiladas, and rice and beans. I'll take it.

So happy day to you. Enjoy your freedom from the French.


And stay tuned this for a week of Mother's Day sweetness.

Friday Fun

If money were no object, (that is one of my favorite sentences, by the way) and you only had a week left to live, what would you do?

Rules
#1 Assume you are in great health. Let's pretend the world ends in a week. Mmmkay?
#2 Um, I guess that's it.

I'll start.

I'd charter a private jet, take my entire family around the world to all the destinations we would like to see. I'm thinking Holland, the Dead Sea, Iceland, Caribbean, Antarctica, and popular US destinations.

Then we'd fly back home, chill at Mom's, and just laugh and laugh with each other, just like we used to every Sunday night. We'd have a turkey dinner, followed by popsicles in the backyard under the shade of the weeping willow.

That would rock.

Now you.

Remove-Ula

Poor, poor Sugar Daddy.

He snores. Bad. Like, as in fog horn bad. Like, as in he wakes me up several times a night with his baritone scales. Good thing he has perfect pitch.

To remedy this situation, we've made an addition to our bedroom. No, not separate beds, although I wouldn't complain, but something much more high tech. He now has to wear a CPAP to bed. He struggled at first with the face mask, and mostly the not being able to pick his nose all night long, but that's a whole nother post, but now he's doing fine with it. Problem is, he still snores. Hmm, what to do?

The doc has come up with a great new plan. Uvula removal. Say that five times fast. No, seriously, try it. You know you're doing it in you head, aren't you? Yeah, I did it to.

The Uvula is that oddly shaped, (and named) hangy ball thingy in the back of your throaty. Apparently it gets all sleepy and relaxed at night, as any good body part should, and falls backwards and partially blocks off the airway causing snoring, and in Sugar Daddy's case, sleep apnea. Sounds as if removal is the way to go.

So he goes under the knife on May 12th. Can you imagine the pain of having stitches in the back of your throat? I sure can't! But if it gets him, and me, a good nights sleep, it's worth the pain. I mean his pain. But we share pain, cause we're just that close.