Saturday, I had this huge urge to give my mama a hug. The thing is, social distancing or not, we’re still miles apart so it’s not something that’d happen anyway. I think of her all the time. Not just on Mother’s day. I like this photo of her my sister sent me (I blurred the people around her) from a family wedding. Caught with a smile on her face.
I like expression. Emotion. I see people as expressions and emotions. All the stuff that happens upon meeting a new person or ‘seeing’ someone, it happens so fast in our brains but what impacts me most and foremost are the subtleties of expressions- can’t help how I am! Most likely why I deplore phone conversations and would rather see a person in a face to face conversation or video chat.
I think of my mother. Peter’s mom. I think of the mothers that mothered my own parents. My Grandmothers. I think of aunts, my sisters. Friends. I think of the women who were so strong. Went through so much. Sacrificed. Endured. Have seen miracles! Overcame. Prayed. My grandma would whisper in my ear a prayer she prayed for me. And the truth is, I absolutely believed she prayed. It wasn’t one of those phrases we sometimes throw around casually. “I’ll pray for you.” If she said it, she did it. There was no doubt. And all the little things, the limited amount I have heard and seen, give me so much appreciation, so much respect for them, for mothers.
Mother’s day was sweet. My girls scheme and imagine what they want to do way ahead of time. I heard Jemma telling Peter how she wants to give me flowers, any kind of flower, even if it’s paper flowers. So Peter helped them make them. How adorable. I can picture my husband cutting craft paper with them. He had told me he had to stop Jemma from waking me up at five am when she came all dressed in the dress she planned to wear for Mother’s day, to tell me Happy Mother’s Day! Five am! He made waffles and whipped cream and strawberry sauce and even though they really wanted me to have breakfast in bed, I came down and we had breakfast together. These kids, they get these ideas and I feel for them, they’re so limited to what they can achieve on their own without help!Although we celebrate moms and I’m the mom, I really have to thank my husband. If I think how much harder it was back in the day, when my grandma lost her husband and raised her children without him, or how so many woman have to do it aaaall alone, I can’t help but appreciate and be ever grateful for my own husband who does so much! I love that my kids, my boy, can see his papa working. When we say papa goes to work because he loves you and that’s how he can take care of you, the kids don’t actually see “that work.” They don’t understand what he actually does. He leaves the house, drives his car, comes back. They don’t see money or the results of that work. Only what we explain. Why and where the books come from, how we pay for food and bills etc etc. But what they do see is when he helps mama. They see when he makes something and it’s special because papa made it, not mama. When papa fixes things around the house. When he changes the tires or puts together a flower box. It makes me happy that the kids see their papa helping mama by loading the dishwasher, not because it’s his “role” but because he loves and sometimes has no problem doing it. So it’s a huge thank you to Peter. Thanks love, for the yummy muffins, and the soups you’ve made. For all the things you do that you definitely don’t have to. Thanks for all the help and all the care you give for our family!
My husband can make me a coffee. It doesn’t mean he makes it always. I love making my coffee. Grinding the beans, steaming the milk… the whole process. Making the coffee is part of what’s so grand about drinking coffee.
My husband makes a soup. It doesn’t mean I don’t make soup. It doesn’t mean I don’t like to cook. It just means my husband likes to and actually can make soup. And I definitely enjoy it. I love watching my husband when he’s working on something or reading or whatnot. When he doesn’t realize I’m watching. You know, when someone’s lost in their work. You wonder what they’re thinking about…
That’s why to this day, my favorite is when Peter gives me time. Takes the kids out to the backyard, or upstairs. For me to cook or clean and enjoy it. Because I actually find those things enjoyable. (Shocking! And just because I do doesn’t mean anyone else has to love these things. I know that there are those that hate or dislike it. Even for me the things I enjoy can be a hassle when there’s too much to do and when I try to get them all done.) When I’m in the zone and my mind explodes in thought and I can focus and relax. In contrast to when you put something on the stove, someone yells from the potty, you have to go do that then stop somebody from leaping over the armchair, and get back in time to flip the egg or mix whatever it is before it burns and is considered a flop. Not because you don’t know how to make it but because you had five, ten, twenty interruptions. Obviously just an example. We still cook and clean and do everything as mothers, interruptions or not. Whatever the situation. If you leave the kids to squabble about something or actually have to go intervene. What I’m saying is that I love to get lost in the moment and just chop onions, when there’s not a single thing to break up what I’ve got going.
A lovely Mother’s Day. And the most lovely garden roses ever.