Sunday, May 10, 2009

Happy Mother's Day!

What should I write on Mother's Day, I asked myself all morning.

Anna Grace wanted to talk all during church and smile at our pew neighbors. The talking continued even during prayer, and it was loud. Disruptively loud. A nice elderly man who had apparently watched me sneak out three previous times, caught my hand and said, "It's okay", with a sweet smile. So I lingered near his area, only to have Anna talk even louder. In case Pastor didn't have the same appreciation of sweet baby noises, I made my way out into the foyer, where she proceeded to spit up on my dry-cleanable dress, three times. There's no question that she's a happy spitter. She smiled at everyone who went by our bench, even while the cheesy-white, curdled milk kept coming down her chin. It was the grossest fifteen minutes, I tell you. But at least she didn't spit up on the pew, or on our hind-neighbors' clothes. She's been known to project the stuff a good distance.

All the while I thought - what should I write about Mother's Day?

We went home and our beautiful young daughters both took naps, following lunch. Emily was in her crib, and Anna was in my arms in the rocker. I thought about the overwhelming tasks before me. There was grocery shopping to do, laundry to fluff, hang, wash, and dry, and messes in every room that needed tending. But I just say there, looking around at them, and then down at my sleeping babe.

What should I write about Mother's Day?

Don sat down next to me and almost immediately his eyes began to close. He struggled to attend to my whispering voice, which was low so as not to wake up Anna. I said, "Honey, you're really struggling. Why don't you take an hour nap? Everything will wait."

So Daddy went off to bed, grateful for the suggestion. He had been up since 2:30 a.m.

That left the boys to fend for themselves, and me to continue Anna's nap in the chair.

The giggly boys decided to go outside and water Timothy's red pepper seeds, which he had just planted a few days before (his own idea). Never mind that God had been watering the earth for several days, give or take. It was something for them to do, and I was grateful there was no mention of dandelion fears. Water play just about takes the cake as the all-time great, most fabulous, giggle-inducing, childhood pastime. What's up with that?

So they went about their outdoor fun, and I stayed in the rocker with Anna, praying for their safety, and getting up to check periodically.

What should I write about Mother's Day, I wondered again. Nothing was coming to mind. I wanted the perfect thing to say, but it was eluding me.

The boys came in, full of mud. Daniel walked onto the whitish carpet to show me a large tub of grass, leaves and dirt. It was their creation, I was told. Their ant farm. Wonderful! Fabulous! Creative! Please take it back outside, I gently pleaded, after lavishing praise on my scientists. Daniel started negotiating, saying he would put it on the backdoor-carpet instead. He wanted to look at it, he insisted.

Next, the boys decided they should make me a Mother's Day card. All their craft and art stuff is stored in cubby bins in the dining room, so they went in there and set to work.

After awhile, Daddy came out. He went into the dining room.

Daddy: "Oh! No! What are you doooing????? Ahhhhh!I hate art!"

Boys: "Making Mommy a card! Timmy spilled the paint. We'll clean it up!"

I figured there must be some paint on the floor, which is nothing new. Having all the art supplies out, including paint, makes for some really wonderful, creative messes. The boys don't get much art direction, because we have a new baby. Feeling guilty about this lacking in their education, I decided they at least needed to be free to create, even if the creations weren't directed, and instructions weren't given. Call it art, instead of crafts. They sculpt, using their myriad of supplies. Yes, it drives Daddy nuts. He likes organized art. I don't. Even if I did, I don't have time for organized art.

Let them create, I continue to implore him. So the art center has stayed. It's been around since early March. Many a messes have been made. The goal often seems to be, "What can I make that will use every single item I have at my disposal?"

Meanwhile, I decide to put Anna into the swing, to finish her nap. There was simply too much to do.

Next, I go to the dining room to start the laundry.

And what do I see?

Blue paint. Everywhere! And my husband on his hands and knees, wiping it up with paper towels. You have to imagine EVERYWHERE. Not just in one section, or on only one side of the table. I mean there wasn't an inch of the floor that wasn't covered in blue paint! How did it happen?

Never mind. It just happened. And Don cleaned it up, because it was Mother's Day.

I still don't quite know how to wrap this up into a nice post for Mother's Day. Anna is screaming in the background, and the various messes still need my attention, at this 10:30 p.m. hour.

Mother's Day! I guess in later years, I will have something profound to say about it. But right now, it's just another day of messes!

I know that someday, when I write my profound Mother's Day thoughts, I'll look back on these early Mother's Days, and long for the messes once again, and for the lively hands that made them. This one, in particular, will stand out in my mind.

The blue, painted-floor Mother's Day.

Happy Mother's Day, Friends!


Evenspor said...

Happy Mother's Day to you too. I wanted to reply to your previous post, because there is so much there I can relate to, but I couldn't even decide where to start.

I am glad you are smiling, even through blue painted floors (at least, it sounds like a smile - maybe?)

Jess said...

happy mother's day, miss pam. i hope little miss anna grace let you have a decent nights rest! :)

Margie said...

Happy Mothers Day Pam!