“Mother is not a title.
Mother is a verb. It is not who you are.
It’s what you do.”
~ Shonda Rhimes
Happy Mother’s day, mom. I love you and miss you every, single day.
100 Happy Days #42
My mother was kind and wise and beautiful. I miss her so much. Luckily, my daughters are smart and strong and loving and patient. I see her in them, every single day. What a sweet thing—this motherhood.
Happy Mother’s Day.
100 Happy Days 3
Does anyone besides me remember getting a handful of these little thingys in the bottom of your Christmas stocking? I’ll admit that I never really knew what to do with them at first. I’m mean, they just got in the way of all the good stuff and made everything salty. But then, once all the candy was gone and all that was left was the peanuts, we’d put them in a big bowl on the front room coffee table. I remember my mom showing me how to roll them on the table to crack them open. It was funny to see her make a big pile of shells and not seem to mind the mess at all. Plus, after all those days of fudge and peppermint and gum drops…a little pinch of salt tasted so good.
Nowadays, I grab a big bag of un-shelled, salted peanuts at Costco and pull out a handful every now and again. They still snap the same on the counter when I roll them just like they did for my mom and they still have that pinch of salt.
Oddly enough, I think the mess is the best part of all. Reminds me of my mom at Christmas.
And that just makes me happy.
One day the Bald Kid was particularly bored and started digging up the front flower bed. No particular reason…he just wanted to.
Which turned out to be a pretty handy-dandy thing because Jillian and Josh brought me a zillion impatiens and one giant hydrangea for Mother’s Day.
What, I ask you, would I have done if all that dirt was still hard and weedy and dreadful? Heaven only knows.
But since it was all soft and mushy, we added some soaked peat moss and a busload of compost and stuck those pretty little things right in the ground. Again, I say “we” like I have a mouse in my pocket or something. It was the guy who did it all again. But I took all the flowers out of the packs and lined them all up and handed them to him in just the right order. That’s an important job too.
He is an awfully nice guy though.
It was a good, kind, flowery day.
And it made me very, very happy.