Are you one of those mothers who had breakfast delivered to them in bed this morning, surrounded by feather pillows and rosy cheeked loved ones all flushed with the adoration they feel for you? Maybe you found a tennis bracelet sandwiched between your banana fosters french toast. Or maybe your family has decided to gift you the famous (yet rarely seen) It's Your Day, Do Whatever You Want Day. If that's you, then I'm happy for you. No, really ... I am.
My special day actually started yesterday when my mother and I, on a whim, decided to lay new sod in my yard. Somehow I managed to end up with enough dirt in my bra to plant a small herb garden and my mother earned herself a pretty nice sunburn. She hasn't gotten around to thanking me for that yet but I'm sure she will. By 5:00, it was time to quit "relaxing" and get down to the real business at hand -- prepping the brunch that we were throwing tomorrow for ourselves. That's not to say that others aren't pitching in. My brother-in-law is bringing the soda and Sage is pre-setting the coffee. Super.
Asleep by 11:00 and awake at 2:00 AM. Why? Because 30, yes 30, people decided to take their Mothers Day celebration to the intersection in front of my house. When the party turned into a street brawl, I celebrated by calling the police. Asleep again by 3:30 and awake at 7:30. Yes! I got to sleep in!
I'm not complaining though. Sage really did pre-set the coffee, Max and Harlowe wished me a Happy Mothers Day and my mom has already vacuumed. I also got to see one of the drunkards from last night, creep out of a house and puke in the street. Ha! And by noon, I'll have hooked up my Mimosa I.V. and the entire family will be here for T-ball and water balloon fights. And that really is my kind of Mothers Day.
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