We are not big on the Hallmark celebrations in our family. Valentine's day passes with almost no notice. Mother's day is similarly not a big deal. I don't expect much, but I do expect to sleep in. This is my gift each year from Mr. Dog. Instead of being climbed upon, poked and viciously snuggled by our boys, as is the case most every other morning, Mother's day is celebrated by me sprawling out on the expanse of our king-size bed sleeping until a shameful hour of the morning.
This was the plan this year as well. And I was ready for it. In fact, last night, when Mr. Dog put the boys to bed, Big Dog reminded Little Dog that he needed to try really hard not to get up and crawl in bed with us in the morning since it was my day to sleep in. Funnily enough, Big Dog decided 7:30 am was a good time to move from his bed to our bed but had the good sense to climb into Mr. Dog's side of the bed so as not to disturb my slumber. It was all going well until I was shocked into instant alertness by a blood-curdling scream from Little Dog. It turns out that his Mother's day gift to me was that of a near coronary. Ok, in fact he awoke in his room and thought for whatever reason that he was alone at home. It scared him, he screamed and any chance of sleeping in was blown out the window as my heart rate hit dangerous levels.
As I tried to spring from the bed to rush to Little Dog, Big Dog climbed over to me, patted my head and stroked my cheek. Soothingly he whispered, "Just calm down, mama. Go back to sleep. Papa will get him."
Unfortunately I was unable to get back to sleep but I let Mr. Dog lead the kids upstairs, demanded he make coffee and settled in to read in my bed all alone. A while later, Mr. Dog told me that the Little Dog had a plan to make me something in the kitchen when I was ready for them to come downstairs. Not breakfast, he warned. Curious, and unsure what they were going to get up to, I told him now was as good a time as any.
Moments later, I was nearly mauled by two boys who had exhibited the ultimate in control not waking me up or getting in my bed. In between the short snuggle visits they sprinted off to the kitchen to help Mr. Dog with the work. At one point Little Dog said to Mr. Dog "It's strawberry lemonade!" then realizing his mistake, ran into my bedroom to ask if I heard anyone say "strawberry lemonade." I denied that I had and he rushed off happy.
After the blending and the pouring, I was treated to a newly mixed beverage. Turns out that in the previous week, Mr. Dog had asked the boys what they wanted to do for Mother's day. Big Dog told him that he had all kinds of stuff he'd made at school for me. Little Dog told him very specifically that he wanted to make me lemonade. He also required that it have strawberries in it to make it pink. Mr. Dog decided to run with that plan.
After the lemonade was consumed, we got dressed and went to a local breakfast spot. Mellow, familiar and low key. All good things in a mother's day. As I sat with my boys, one in wearing a cape, one climbing under the table, I took stock of my sweet life. Happy Mother's day indeed!
Pasta ala Fridge
5 years ago