Imagine if you will, a perfect Mothers Day, a day when you get to sleep in as late as you want. In your own bed. Without anyone coming and breathing on you, banging your door open or making so much noise you are forced out of a deep sleep in a panic state of immediate alertness.
Imagine if you will, a day where all of your needs are met and you are put at the top of the list. Where what you really want to do is what you actually get to do from sun up until sun down. Top that off with a manicure, a pedicure, a facial and a new hairdo. And while we are at it, lets toss in a full body massage and a chocolate fountain nearby.
I know, I know. Too good to be true. But shouldnt Mothers Day be about us? The moms? The hard-working, dedicated, self-sacrificing women who spent endless sleepless nights nursing babies, comforting little ones after nightmares and cooking meals greeted with yuck at the dinner table?
It should be about us, right? So why cant we decide how we celebrate? We dont get to celebrate the perfect Mothers Day because of the same two-legged aliens who got us into this mom-gig in the first place – our children.
Yes, yes, our children. They have it in their blessed little hearts that they want to bring us breakfast in bed. Now in theory, that sounds divine. But lets face it. Breakfast in bed usually begins at six in the morning, well before we are ready to get up. And usually, breakfast made my tiny hands usually involves watery scrambled eggs and burnt toast. Gifts? Well, forget about a day at the spa. Mothers Day presents tend to be handmade clay pinch pots, cards designed with Crayola crayons, and poems that dont really rhyme.
I guess my Mothers Day celebrations dont seem too extravagant to the naked eye. But there is something to be said for celebrating motherhood with the ones who made you a mom in the first place. And about the love they shower you with.
When they come storming into my bedroom with breakfast and gifts, the look on their faces is one of pure joy. They can hardly wait until I take a bite of my breakfast or open my gifts.
I guess Mothers Day is far from perfect. Its not perfect because motherhood is not perfect.
Motherhood is perfectly imperfect, and so am I. So maybe celebrating Mothers Day should be just like motherhood itself. Perfectly imperfect but overflowing with love. More love than I can absorb. More love than I deserve.
So maybe I dont get to sleep in until noon. Maybe my needs are not all met and I am still on the bottom of my priority list. Maybe I dont get to do everything I want to do, and there is no manicure, pedicure, facial or massage. But there is love. And maybe thats all that matters.
Come hear Trish speak at Orrville Christian Church, May 7. Call 330-682-3686 for more information.
