My mom and dad are coming to visit tomorrow. I'm excited to have my mom here on Mother's Day. I'm so excited that I can't clean the house, do the sheets for her bed, or shop for a gift for her. That's what I'm telling people. :)
I've told the boys that I don't want anything this year - except a clean house.
But they just insisted on buying me me these beautiful roses today....well, okay, I got them for myself while I was out getting something pretty for my mother-in-law, but I told the hubby he could take all the credit for them. All I want is a clean toilet - that I didn't have to clean. He swears that he'll take care of all of it. However, I'm the one home from work today and my parents will be here in the morning. Do the math people. I'm not holding out much hope.
This extra time on my hands has me reflecting on previous year's Mother's Days.
Mother's Day 2000 - I was pregnant with Braden and everyone made such a big fuss over me. Telling me there were going to be so many wonderful Mother's Days ahead of me now that I was going to be a card-carrying member of "the club."
Mother's Day 2001 - What a great moment. I will never forget the FEELING of that first Mother's Day - for the first time ever I had a child to share with the world. Braden was dressed in his most-handsome outfit and I got to experience the wonder of Mother's Day with a beautiful baby boy all my own.
Mother's Day 2004 - Hubby went and had a great picture taken with my son and presented the framed photo to me.
However, I believe it was Mother's Day 2005 that put some things into perspective for me....Brady had to work that day and I thought it would be a good day for mother-son bonding. Notsomuch. We were in Target and the devil took over my child. Right there. Right by the carts. Barely in the door. He was screaming within an inch of his life that he was not going to get in the cart and wanted to go home. (How embarassing!!) Instead of fighting with him. I grabbed him and took him to the car without so much as a word. All the while, his arms are flailing, and he's screaming at the top of his lungs how much he hates me and I'm the worst mom ever - in only the way a 4-year old can. "Happy freakin' mother's day," I remember thinking to myself. REALLY?! THIS is what I signed up for? I'm pretty sure I joined the wrong club. However, once we got home and he had time to cool off, and dad got home to a sulking wife and child, the sulking child came up to me and said, still sniffling and trying to catch his breath from throwing a three-hour fit, "I'm sowwwy mommy. I yub you. I didn't mean to huwt your feewings." We cried again, this time together, and he's never again said that he hates me. NEVER. I wonder if he remembers that day?
As bad as the "Freakish Fours" were, I love that little guy more than my own life. He's growing up to be such a great little boy. He even held the net for the girls on his volleyball team this year. Before too long he's going to be in Middle School, High School and