Crazy Love

In honor of Mother’s Day, I was thinking I should write something sweet and sappy about being a Mother to Son and Daughter and how they fill me with joy and wonder and my love for them is endless and how I couldn’t imagine my life without them and seriously, what did I ever DO on a Saturday before I had kids?

And all those things are 100% true.

But then last night, Daughter roamed around the house screaming for, um, you know, like two hours about, um, you know, I HAVE NO IDEA and Son was extremely upset about getting knocked out in Sorry even though we’ve played that game together maayybbee 100 times and each time we start with a disclaimer:  Warning-you WILL be knocked out in this game and it is NOT a reason to cry.  And Husband was out “networking” for the third night in a row and I was trying really really really hard to not have a glass of wine until 5 pm and I’m pretty sure I sent Husband a text that said something like “I hope those f*%&ing people are appreciating your f*$#ing time right now” which, in retrospect was probably kind of mean and unnecessary but at the time seemed perfectly reasonable and totally necessary because HE DOES NOT KNOW WHAT HE IS MISSING OUT ON and I thought maybe he would want to know.  I mean, who wouldn’t want to come home to a Wife that sends you such lovely messages?  And then, of course, there was dinnertime, which is always a joy and sends smiles down my spine when I hear those words “What are we having for dinner?” and I know...I know SOMEONE is going to complain about peas, or chicken or macaroni and cheese. (Yes.  Someone on this planet complains about having to eat macaroni and cheese and that someone is a shortish, youngish male who lives in my house.)  And then, ohmygod, how many more BITES do I have to EAT to get a TREAT?  But...you don’t get a treat tonight because remember when I was just being all Motherly an hour ago and WE MADE COOKIES TOGETHER and we ate all that cookie dough?  And a warm cookie from the oven?  REMEMBER?  But please, continue your emotional breakdown because it FILLS ME WITH JOY.  And then there was that lovely little ditty Daughter was singing in the bathtub at the top of her lungs.  I think it went something like this:  I I I I HATE HATE HATE HATE THE THE THE THE BATH BATH BATH BATH.  Those were the only lyrics and it happened to be a really long song and then I realized that I had no idea where Son was and when I found him, he was hiding in the top bunk playing with legos asking me- Why is She so crazy?  Also, I’m pretty sure he realized that Mommy could only handle so much crazy so he decided to shut up about losing in Sorry and just practice self preservation and very smartly played quietly while I chased Daughter around the house with a hair brush because the PAIN, oh the PAIN of hair brushing is apparently excruciating and oh my God pleasepleasepleaseplease let it be time for bed and how in the hell is it only 6:45 pm right now?

Tomorrow will be better, I told myself as I was finally able to close their bedroom door for the night and make my way to the sofa for terrible television and delicious wine.  Tomorrow will be better.  A mother’s mantra.

And tomorrow came.  And it started, as it so often does, with two pajama clad sleepy heads telling me to scoot over and I want to be next to Mama, no I want to be next to Mama until they are both next to Mama, 4 sets of arms draped over each other for a few precious minutes before the morning hustle begins.  Tomorrow is already better, I thought to myself as I inhaled the sweet morning smells of my Offspring.

So, dear Son and Daughter, on this Mother’s Day, I want to tell you that I love you endlessly, you fill me with joy and wonder, life is unimaginable without you and you keep my Saturdays and my every day full of...adventure.  (Although I wouldn’t mind the opportunity to sleep past 6:30 on Saturdays.)  Being your Mother is an honor for which I am eternally grateful and I am really really really  trying to not screw you up too much.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the Mama’s.  Enjoy that Crazy Love.