Too Good Not To Share.

A perfect hike with mom.

At the Res. and to the top of the top of the spot that Dec reached at Camp this Summer.
The spot he promised to show us. Before the summer ended.

We ate together - gourmet food of sorts from the new local shop down the road.
It was nearing sunset.

On the hike to and fro we laughed, slipped, marveled at buttercup's new "kneesocks", laughed,
listened, did some heavy breathing and loved. Each other.

At the top, mom handed over the pound cake she insists she "finished half of" during the storm.

I take it willingly. I know the recipe well, and recall that the word pound is not figurative.

Especially when it comes to the butter line item.

Yum.

Two proud and exhausted hikers sat in the back of my car as we made our way for home after the hike. They quietly munched on Granny's Cake and passed the luke warm water bottle back and forth between each other.

The open tub of pound cake sat next to me in the passenger seat the whole ride home.
Tempting? But of course.

During the drive home, we all used the same word to describe the evening, the stroll in the woods, the walk with Granny....

Perfect.

It wasn't until we rounded our last turn to home that we slowed.

Flashing lights and large cherry picker trucks were blocking our road.

I took a bite of the pound cake calling my name to the right of me. Darn, that is good stuff.

Then I turned my attention to the traffic delay.

My first thought: I can't believe they are still out here working at dusk - a full one week after IRENE hit

They seemed to be moving on from this post.

Three trucks went roaring past our idling car.

WISCONSIN DEC AND NONIE! DID YOU SEE THAT PLATE?! THEY ARE FROM WISCONSIN.

Without much thought I found myself frantically waving my flabby white arm out my car window just in time to catch the fourth truck.....

WHAT AM I DOING? I KIND OF THOUGHT. Then, my next thought was: I BET HE THINKS I'M GOING TO COMPLAIN ABOUT SOMETHING. Since everyone has been grumpy without power.


The ginormous truck slowed and then grinded to a halt, just in time for our windows to line up perfectly.

I took a glance at the driver.

HE'S YOUNG - A KID! (I THOUGHT).

And this darling young thing with a crew cut and midwestern accent lowered his window as I offered up some pound cake.

DO YOU CARE FOR SOME POUND CAKE (I SHOUTED - OVER THE ROAR OF THE ENGINE)?

Gee, sure I'd love some. THANK YOU! Said the young kid (couldn't have been older than 19) and he grabbed a slice and roared away.

Then came the next, fifth and final, truck.

I put my flabby white arm to work.

MY MOM MADE THIS POUND CAKE. WOULD YOU LIKE A SLICE?

And he said

WOW! SURE! THANKS!!! and he grabbed the tupperware and was off.

(Gran, sorry - but the electrician from Wisonsin has your tupperware. However, I think it was my container anyway. I recognize the lid, which is all I'm left with as I type this post up.)

In every way imaginable....this evening, buttercup's mud stockings, eating really close to a copperhead snakeskin, Gran's pound cake, and offering up all I had at the time (WHICH IS A LESSON MOM HAS ALWAYS TAUGHT ME) the whole day really -

was too good not to share.

Love this Lady.

When A Mother's Laugh Rings True.

The end of a good mother's day. I was offered tea and breakfast in bed. I was even wished a happy mothers day by both children without them having a reminder whispered in their ear. For some reason, this thoughtfulness stood out today.

We brunched with family in a cool new spot - blue blazers and khakis as far as the eye could see. We took a meandering stroll in the Res with two Grandpeople. I watched Dec score a goal "for me" on the soccer field. Equally as important, I snuggled with Nonie on the sidelines.

With less than 15 minutes until dinner was served, I created a new dessert with Nonie and Dec. It had butterscotch, dulce de leche, and german chocolate cookies as the top three ingredients. Mother's Day yum. Yum.

And finally, when the sun dipped below the horizon and the hubs began clearing the plates and glassware from our al fresco dinner - I strolled to the yard with the kids.

We quietly played our own game of "everyone's it" tag. We had three sets of bases, and I soon realized that Dec is almost as fast as me.

During a quick break, the sound of another mother's laugh came from the yard across the street.

What's that? asked Dec.

Oh, just a mom playing with her kids, I said. On Mother's Day, I added.

We continued our game.

At another break our heavy breathing gave way to sounds of another mom in the yard two houses toward the lake shouting to her kids at the swing set. Before long, we could hear the loud squeaks of the swings and we knew she was swaying along with her kids. Her laughter relayed this message quite quickly.

Before too much longer we could hear another mom closer to the forest. She was out tidying up her garden with her wee ones. She laughed then shrieked when they sprayed the hose too close to her shoes.

***

Tonight I found myself inexplicably in the midst of the magic of mother's day.
A day I typically chalk up to being just another hallmark holiday. Mother's Day moments are magical indeed, but aren't limited to one calendar day a year.

This evening I stepped away from the confines of our house and my post-dinner responsibilities. I gravitated to our yard and bee lined for our swing set, while the hubs bellied up to a large soapy sink and gravy-filled pots. And this phenomenon was happening up and down our road.

In the fading daylight hours, our quiet street came to life with mothers outside playing with their kids.

And I was reminded that:

Nonie and Dec love it most when I run, skip, sing, laugh, slide, sway,

and PLAY beside them.

On this day they loved their mother because she was playful, fun, silly, unpredictable and FREE

When A Mother's Laugh Rings True...

this is the way Mother's Day should always be (and this year it transpired as if on cue).

This made me think of me Ma.

A mother is a person who,

seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people,

promptly announces she never did care for pie. --

Tenneva Jordan

Mom's Boy

Today was one of those days when the boy was golden, and delicious. If he had been hanging from a tree someone would have scooped him up and eaten him. The Xavy part shined bright and the two-year old (evil?) part slept the day away somewhere else. Thanks be to God.

Shared breakfast of homemade cinnamon raisin-toast with extra butter. Cuteness and songs on the way to school. Finishing nearly every sentence, word or question with mom.

Iddybiddybider mom? Wheredaddy, mom? Daddywerk, mom? Eatmoreapple, mom? rororoyorbo, mom?

We talked about all the big kids who got to ride the school bus today and didn't have a huge melt down when WE didn't get to ride the bus. We played baseball and I delivered pitch after pitch. And when I attempted to end the game on account of making dinner I got a brief shriek of no, then a flash of genius. "Your turn, mom." Huh? It has never been my turn. Ever.

We took an adventure to the high school to see his older cousin play football, shared homemade pizza and had lots of couch snuggles while daddy went to the Yankee game. And as I said goodnight I cried. My beautiful, precious, sweet, darling baby is my joy.

And if tomorrow everything from waking up to getting out the door is a battle I will reach into this memory for strength. I will know that he is good, and sweet and kind. I will read this again to remember this day.

As I walked around the high school with my baby on my shoulders I flashed forward 12 years and wondered if I would remember walking around answering to....

whatthat, mom?

lights

oh

whatthat,mom?

golfcart

oh

whatthat,mom?

baseball field

oh

whatthat,mom?

big boy got a booboo

oh, booboo mom?

yup

whatthat mom?

mommy

whatthat mom?

xavy

whatthat mom?

love

Happy Mother's Day

There is but one and only one,
Whose love will fail you never.
One who lives from sun to sun,
With constant fond endeavor.

There is but one and only one
On earth there is no other.
In heaven a noble work was done
When God gave us a Mother.
-Irish Blessing




As a non-mother I don't know all of the feelings that a mother might have.
When you have a child, do you expect that after the years of teaching, coaching, playing, watching, helping, supporting, and cheering, the job will never be done?
And I mean never.
I know this become I am on the receiving end of these gifts.
I am the taker.
I am the one in need.
And she,
she is always the one giving.



She is calm and has the wisdom of someone,
that you can't help but turn to.
So I do.
Over and over again.



Always one to surround herself with lots of her own peeps,
she still can make you feel like you are the only one who matters.
In that moment, you are hers.
And she,
she will always be mine.