Happy Mother's Day! I want to begin by acknowledging all the moms out there who work so tirelessly, especially during this pandemic. You are incredible, valued, and loved. I also want to acknowledge all the women who are not moms but are there to support their mommy friends. I have some of those friends, and I couldn't survive without them. Finally, to all the moms who have passed on. We miss you today and every day. Our day started with an Uber showing up at my door that I never ordered. You guessed it - Miles was the culprit. The little phone thief got hold of my phone, started pushing random buttons, apparently, and the next thing I knew, I had an Uber I didn't order at my door. At least it's better than the police or fire department showing up due to a mistaken 911 call, which has happened here more than once, I am embarrassed to admit. The obligatory Mother's Day breakfast in bed was a complete bust. Graham spent days researching recipes for German pancakes. However, the skill level required to make them was above his paygrade. I was quarantined up in my room so I never saw what went wrong. I heard a lot of crying and yelling, which did not bode well for the breakfast I was awaiting. I had various reporters come to my room, one-by-one, in tears telling me about the ensuing problems. First it was the wasted flour, eggs, and milk (apparently a big concern to them in a pandemic). I heard about pancake batter that was too thin and spilled off the griddle on to the stove (I tried not to picture that). There was a very strong odor of burnt food, which also left me discouraged that I would be eating anything edible. After multiple efforts and burnt pans, it all had to be thrown out. More tears. I was proud of myself for keeping my cool, which isn't easy when Mother's Day gets off to such a rocky start. I suggested they just make me toast with jam and tea. That was all I needed, I kindly explained. They finally acquiesced and returned a short time later with what I had ordered, with the addition of an Egg in a Hole, on the platter (this is a fried egg cooked into the center of toast, done on the stovetop - it was delicious). The peace was restored. Halleluja! Next came a tray filled with homemade presents the kids had spent all week making. I don't cry easily, but opening them and seeing what was inside made me cry. Each was more intricate and thoughtful than the one before. They were filled with messages of love and devotion. I was deeply touched by their creativity, thoughtfulness, and ingenuity in creating these treasures. All this time, I had been reclining in my bed watching Sunday Morning, one of my favorite shows. I record it weekly but never get to watch it. All I wanted to do this morning was something that I never get to do. While watching my show, I was texting my mommy friends, wishing them each a Happy Mother's Day. That was a treat as well. I got to hear about how all their days were shaping up. I heard about one disaster after another, which just warmed my heart and made me laugh. At least I wasn't the only one with an imperfect day. After breakfast and the gifts, the kids joined me in my room and bed (Fitzy too). We caught up on five Jim Gaffigan segments on Sunday Morning. We were doubled over with laughter, as we listened to him describe his home life, during quarantine, with his wife and five kids, in their Manhattan apartment, with his distinctive brand of humor. We finally rolled out of bed at 12:30. I swore I wasn't going to clean nor cook at all today. However, soon after venturing out of my room, I could see that was an unrealistic fantasy. I spent the next 90 minutes picking up clothes; vacuuming; helping kids clean up their rooms and make beds. I finally made it downstairs to re-clean the kitchen after the brunch fiasco this morning. The kids swore up and down they had cleaned it, but you know how that goes. I can only imagine how it looked before they cleaned it. I made them a late lunch/snack of nachos with salsa, sour cream, and homemade guacamole. They felt a bit guilty that I had "cooked," but I have come to learn that no mother gets Mother's Day off, truly. If you are lucky enough to cook a little less, clean a little less, or sleep a little more it's a big win! If we're all honest, that's the definition of a successful Mother's Day, which mine was.
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