Quiet Mother's Day

Mother's Day came and went quietly this year. Since it happened to fall on the day after I got back from Michigan, I knew I was going to want to spend the majority of the day resting and just being with my boys. I ended up sleeping until noon. I felt like I was a teenager again or something - I didn't even know my 30 year old body could do that anymore.

Family was scattered about on Sunday. My step-mom was sick, my Grandparent's stayed in their town an hour away where my Aunt and Uncle went for lunch. We decided to post-pone mom day celebrations with Todd's mom until another weekend. I guess the day didn't come with as much pressures or disappointments as it usually does. And I feel somewhat guilty for saying that it felt kind of nice to not have to feel "on" or present for the various mothers in my life while feeling the ever present absence of my own.

Mother's Day is hard. I suppose it might always be.

During a free afternoon in Michigan, I went into a small town called Grand Haven with some girlfriends. After a very long walk, we did some shopping. I found a children's book called "My Mom Loves Me." As I flipped through the pages, I stood there and wept.

My mom plays with me. My mom swings with me. My mom swims with me. My mom carries me. My mom hangs out with me. My mom takes me places. My mom bathes me. My mom kisses me. My mom comforts me.

It was precious.

My tears came from a huge place of ambivalence. I couldn't draw many memories of where my own mother's love looked like that. Our relationship was distant and stale and almost non-existent. I don't remember many times where she had done any of those things with me as I grew up. My tears also came from a place where as I looked through each page, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I did each and every one of those things with Tommy.

I bought the book. Full price and everything. And while I bought it for Tommy, I kind of bought it for myself too. It felt fitting to have for Mother's Day.

Mother's Day felt like a regular ordinary Sunday. It felt kind of nice for it to just kind of come and go with ease. When it came time for Tommy to go to bed for the night, he uncharacteristically pitched a fit and sat in his crib screaming. This isn't usual behavior - he's always been a good sleeper and goes to bed easily. So I got him back up and sat him on my lap. He cuddled against me as I rocked him.

And then he whispered quietly...."I lubbs you."

And I whispered back, "I love you too buddy."

I couldn't help but realizing in that very moment that I knew he felt loved by me in that moment. And it's evident that he can understand what love feels like. They aren't just words anymore; I think he understands what being loved and loving someone feels like.

I thought my heart was going to burst. Mother's Day may have been quiet and "ordinary," but that small moment I shared with Tommy made the entire day unforgettable and extraordinary.