My sister called me earlier this week to see what I'd gotten mom for Mother's Day, as she was in a quandry. I told her that spending time together with her would probably make mom the happiest. I've always known that about my mom - she values her family and those intangible or homemade gifts so much more than anything you can find on the shelves of the finest store. As I've grown up, I too have found that I crave seeing my family, spending time with them, sharing experiences together far more than gifts. This year, more than ever, I can appreciate that Mother's Day wish.
I have many memories of Mother's Days, growing up. I remember many years Dad, Grace, Dan and I would 'sneak' (or I'm sure we thought we were) out of bed early to let mom doze awhile longer and we would converge in the kitchen to prepare a glorious Mother's Day breakfast-in-bed. It would be a great feast - scrambled eggs, cheese grits, biscuits, bacon, sausage, orange juice and coffee, with all the jellies, jams and butter you could want, set on our finest everyday dishes, with a neat little folded napkin tucked under the plate. It was served on a tin Budwiser commemorative tray my parents had (because that was the only tray we had, aside from the great plastic one we had with a Turkey on it, which would never do for Mother's Day. Clearly Thanksgiving material there). We'd head out in the yard to cut some fresh roses for her tray, something I always missed at our Marietta house after we moved from Rome. By the way, I'm so excited - we just planted a whole passel of roses at our new house, so Hayden and Chris can always bring me fresh flowers (hint, hint!). We'd all come piling into Mom and Dad's bed with mounds of food, chattering away about who made what and urging her to try our specialty first. I specifically remember one Mother's Day, the first bite of my scrambled eggs that mom took had a large piece of shell in it, and that ruined it for her. I felt so bad. I assured her that there was just the one piece, but she (probably wisely) declined any more eggs that morning.
Another Mother's Day that will live on in infamy is the one when I was about 5 years old, when we still lived in Rome. I roused Grace, only 3 at the time, early that morning and convinced her to come help me mop the kitchen floor, a chore we often helped Mom with but had never attempted alone. Mom and Dad were used to us rising early on the weekends to pile in front of the TV with our blankies and cereal, so I don't think the noises I'm sure drifted back to their room from the kitchen concerned them too much at first. Grace and I started by heaving the kitchen chairs, upside down, onto the kitchen table, as we'd seen mom do. Then we got the mop, bucket of hot water and the handy Mop & Glo and prepared to shine those floors!
Having only recently learned to read, I carefully read the instructions on the back of the bottle before starting. They read, and I remember this vividly because of their stunning results, "squirt a line of Mop & Glo on your floor, then mop the area clean." They also showed a very helpful picture of a line of Mop & Glo on a dirty floor preceding a sponge mop that left a shiny, clean floor behind. I decided instead of doing each line then mopping behind, it would be eaiser to put the Mop & Glo down then mop the whole floor together. I quickly sized up the mop and the size of the kitchen floor, and began zigging and zagging back and forth across the kitchen, leaving little trails of Mop & Glo one mop head width apart. Unfortunately, mom didn't have quite enough Mop & Glo for the whole kitchen - I ran out just before I got the last row or two down, but I figured I could make do over there.
I mopped the entire floor in a jiffy and began working my way across with the hot water for the rinse. This is where we ran into a wee bit of trouble. Instead of taking up the suds, it seemed to create more every time I dipped the mop into the water and began scrubbing. Thinking quickly, I decided it would be more efficient to pour the water on the floor to get the soap up, then I could soak it back up with the mop. I had Grace turn the bucket up on end, as I began mopping. Soon I realized we'd created even more bubbles and now there was water headed for the den and dining room carpets. I passed Grace a broom, opened the carport door, and together we began sweeping and mopping the water outside. That was about the time Mom and Dad must've been shaken from their dreams enough to wonder, "What the heck is that racket?" and came stumbling in to the middle of our Mother's Day surprise.
All I remember after that is Grace and I being quickly ushered out the door by my dad, for a Fun Trip to the Movies! as we left my mom on her hands and knees mumbling and cursing under her breath. I figured Dad was rewarding us for our very kind gift with a day out, when looking back, I'm sure he was saving us from sudden and certain death at the hands of a woman already stressed out beyond belief. Why they ever had a third child after that episode is beyond me. Of course, as my mama always says, "it's the thought that counts!" Thank God for that...
Mom, Happy Mother's Day. You deserve to be honored everyday, not just once a year. You have put up with so much over the years because of me - I hope I was worth it. Of course, looking at Hayden today, I know the answer to that without having to ask. I enjoyed spending my first Mother's Day with you and Hayden together. That was the best present (oh, and of course the gumbo!). Dad, Dan and Chris - thank you all too for a wonderful evening. We missed you, Gracie. Next time I need the floors mopped, I know who to call, though!
Good times...
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