A Mother's Journal

Mother’s Day is one of those holidays I still don’t feel old enough to be the guest of honor.  I grew up wanting to be a mother someday, more than most anything.  It was what I wanted to be when I grew up.  But the actual celebrating of Mother’s Day is what we did for my mom.  It just feels weird to be the mom being celebrated, and I have been a mother for almost 25 years.

With that being said, when I think about Mother’s Day, I always think about the year my son was five.  He was in Kindergarten and honestly, it was the first Mother’s Day where he made an effort by himself to do something for me.  His dad was always good about it before, but there is just something special about the first time they give a gift that is completely from their child’s heart.  It is magical for a mother.

It was this year that my son gave me my first dandelion bouquet.  Oh, he had picked the occasional dandelion here and there for me prior to this, but this was the first time he did it without me telling him to pick them.  And this was a large bouquet of yellow.  We seemed to have a rather healthy crop growing in our backyard that year.  I probably could have made several dozen dandelion chains and necklaces and still had a ready supply for more.  So he had plenty to pick for my Mother’s Day bouquet.

We also hadn’t started homeschooling at this time.  So he had been influenced by his teacher at school.  I think she told the class that all mothers just love to receive dandelions from their children.  It is true.  It isn’t so much that we actually like or love dandelions though.  It is because our children thought of us.  It is because they made the effort to pick something for us that through their eyes is beautiful.  Eventually our children quit picking the dandelion bouquets for us and those days are over.

I think that this first bouquet was also memorable because of the other item he gave me that year.  It was also heartfelt and done in only the way a kindergartener could do it.  His teacher had made little papers for them to fill in with their own answers.  My son was in the more advanced group and could read and write his answers by himself.  He had all sorts of nice things to say about me.  He loved when I would play with him.  He loved when I would read to him.  I was feeling quite good about myself and then I got to the last answer.  It was a question about what my son loved most about his mom.  I read, “I love my mom because she is buttfull.”  What on earth did he mean by that??!!

Now, I tried to reason with my mother’s heart that he was only five, and meant beautiful.  But this is the child who rarely misspells a single word.  If he had written that at his current age, I would devise a suitable form of motherly torture that all good moms can come up with in a moment.  Things like extra dishes, cleaning the bathroom, or weeding the garden.  I would demand to know if he was saying that my derriere was big.  But you can’t do that to a five year old.  Five year olds are honest. And do you really want to hear the answer to that?  No. You just smile and thank them.  What else can you do?

It’s no wonder I smile at this time of year.  As the days pass, I remember fondly the many dandelion bouquets I received for Mother’s Day over the years.  I think that is why yellow is my favorite color.  It reminds me of sweet little faces handing me bouquets of love.  It makes me feel special.  Even if it also reminds me that I am forever the mom who is buttfull.

When I think of summer, it brings to my mind things like sunshine, parties, popsicles, watermelon, fireworks, things that explode, and family vacations.  It is extra special when you have something that combines all of the above, or at least a good portion of them.  As I think of all of these things, I anticipate memories.  And then I remember an occasion where most of these things were combined and I give pause…

The funny thing about our family is that while we love Disney, we haven’t made it to one of the parks yet.  I mean, I went when I was 5 years old, but I am the only one who has ever been to one.

However, when Chandler was just a little guy, he had a set of stuffed figures which resembled the well known mouse characters from Disney.

While the rest of the world referred to these characters as Mickey and Minnie, Chandler insisted that their names were Bob and Mrs. Bob.  We have no idea why.  It was just the way it was at the time.  If we tried to correct him, he would become extremely distressed.

Chandler took Bob and Mrs. Bob everywhere.  They were his real imaginary friends.  He needed to know Bob’s opinion on just about everything.  If we went to the zoo, he had to make sure that Bob saw everything too.

Bob was Chandler’s favorite.  But Chandler insisted that we have Mrs. Bob too since they were…yes…married.

Chandler also had a fascination during those years, like most little boys, with things that crashed and blew up.  He still does…who am I kidding here?  Anyway, during this time, Gary was the Cubmaster for our local troop.  We had a fun pack meeting planned and it even included a cannon that we were going to shoot candy out of for the kids. You can see where this is about to go, right?

We went over to our friend’s house to try the cannon out so we were prepared.  We all thought it would be fun to shoot Bob and Mrs. Bob out of the cannon for Chandler.  We placed them in the cannon and set it off, anticipating the fun of watching Chandler’s friends fly through the air.

We did not anticipate that they would emerge from the cannon on fire.  When we got the fire put out, Bob had scorch marks across his face and a melted hole in his butt.  Mrs. Bob had scorch marks and a melted shoe.  Chandler was hysterical.

Chandler was also convinced at this age that anything mom put in the washing machine came out new.  He begged me to wash his friends.  So we took home the scorched critters and I quietly placed them elsewhere and started a load of laundry.  Meanwhile Dad ran to the local and well known variety store and managed to snag another set of friends for Chandler.  The day was saved!

Lessons learned from our cannon experience?

1. Never put anything into a cannon that you aren’t willing to replace.
2. If you do decide to put something into a cannon just to see what happens, make sure there are replacements available.
3. Read lesson #1.

Toddlers and shopping are a recipe for an interesting moment in your day.  My son had a definite knack for making shopping a memorable experience, which is not always a good thing.  However, my son has impeccable taste in what looks good on my person.   So sometimes a girl has to live on the dangerous side and take the risk in order to get a little something new.

Easter was just around the corner and I had a gift certificate burning a hole in my pocket.  I had actually won the gift certificate in a contest at work and it was a nice little sum that would get me a new dress for Easter.  I hadn’t had a new dress for quite awhile.  So this was a real treat to be able to shop at the mall and get something nice.  Of course, I had to take my son along with me.  The lure of a new dress overrode my hesitancy I felt in making the trip.

We arrived at the store and I began to peruse the dresses that were available.  Things were going very well and I began to relax my guard.  My son was staying put and helping me look at the pretty dresses.  He pointed out a pretty peach colored dress, and I had found a pale yellow dress that I liked quite well.  I found both dresses in my size and we headed to the dressing rooms to try them on and make a decision.  The dressing rooms were packed.

After a brief period of waiting, it was finally my turn.  I pulled my 4 year old in with me as any good mother would.  At his insistence, I tried on the peach number first.  It was really pretty and I really liked it.  My son was emphatic that we should just get that one.  He said his mom would be the prettiest mom ever.  I couldn’t believe how sweet he was being on this trip.  It was definitely one of our better experiences.

Then, I tried on the yellow dress.  It was a soft chiffon type of material and I just knew I would feel like a million bucks in it.  I got the dress on and turned to look at my son.  He looked at me with a frown and then in a very loud voice that carried over the entire overcrowded dressing room, proclaimed, “You kinda look like a banana!”

You know those moments when there is an awkward silence that seems like eternity?  I lived through that before the entire dressing room burst out in laughter.  Needless to say, I took off the banana dress, left the dressing room with a slightly red face, child in tow, and bought the peach dress.  I haven’t purchased an Easter dress since that day.  I just can’t chance that I will look like a banana.