Sunday, May 11, 2008
Mothers Who Know Choose Rubies
So today is supposed to be "my special day," but when your two-year old wakes up at 4am hurling in her bed, down the hall, and then on our bed, it kinda takes the shine off Mother's Day. But honestly, I have fairly low expectations: I need to sleep in, get a funny card from Dave, and not have to cook. Gifts shmifts. The kids made me breakfast in bed, pictures and coupon books, and were cooperative during picture taking which for me, is the greatest gift of all. Jonah even made me Jib-Jab tribute: http://www.jibjab.com/sendables/share_view/8SlWGbfbyjgMGwQnKCCVZAfI
Dave stayed home with the puker, rotating laundry and giving her diet caffeine free coke in a bottle (her white trash dream come true) and the big kids and I went to church. While no one quoted the irritating ruby scripture (see below), I did have to hear about Sister Beck and "Mother's Who Know" which made me want to hurl. But all in all, it's been a fine, fine day and I'm happy to be my kids' Hobo Mama.
Here is something I wrote a few years back regarding this special day:
Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there and to all of you who "mother" people you may or may not have given birth to.
This is not to say I am a Bad Mom ala Brothers Grimm or Joan Crawford. I just have a tendency to use phrases like, "Don’t come crying to me if you break your neck trying to slide down the hall on a dish towel." And when Jonah does end up in a heap of tears and dish towels he replies, "I’m not crying to you, I’m crying to myself." When I hear this I console myself that I am getting through to him.
So whether you’re a ruby or Cubic Zirconia, a long sufferer or a screamer, a maker of fine baked goods or a purchaser of Hostess products, happy Mother’s Day, and let someone else do the dishes.