I was thinking back to some of my most memorable Mother's Day's today. Of course, the best one was my very first, after many years of infertility.
I spent one Mother's Day on a flight to China to get Chloe.
I spent one Mother's Day in Guatemela when we were adopting Jake.
But remembering one Mother's Day in particular, always cracks me up. It was 2002.
The day dawned cold and rainy. *Sigh*
Taylor had to be at church at 8AM to sing a special group song for Mother's Day. That totally threw our Sunday morning routine off. I was getting ready when I heard a commotion in the hall. I looked out to see Jeff carrying a naked, two-year old Molly, to the bathroom. Seems she had chosen that morning to poop all over her bed and herself. There was no time for extra baths in the Sunday morning schedule. This was not good.
While Jeff bathed Molly, I dashed up and down the stairs, alternating between getting ready to go and urging Taylor to eat so that he could leave. He insisted that he WAS eating...but you would have needed a slow motion camera replay to detect any movement.
I proceeded to get the girls ready to go. All went well until I was putting the finishing touches on Jillian. She leaned over and barfed on her leg and our bed. I looked at her in disbelief. THIS.WAS.NOT.HAPPENING. She insisted that she wasn't sick. Fine. At the risk of getting too graphic, it didn't look like the kind of vomit one gets with the flu, so I decided to believe her. I took her downstairs and herded her toward the car. As I passed the kitchen counter, I noticed a corsage lying there. Jeff was obviously not going to have time to make a formal presentation, so I said, "Is this mine?" (Duh!) He said, "Yes," so I grabbed it off the counter and dashed out to the car. I tried putting it on...only to see that there was only one pin. Argh. I have never mastered the art of pinning a corsage on--the ability escapes me to this day. That day was no different. With one pin, it was nearly impossible. I fiddled with it all the way to church and managed to bend the stem of the rose. Realizing that I was in danger of breaking it off entirely, I left alone...somewhat crooked and wobbly, but on.
We got to church, and I took Molly in and sat down. As I leaned over to put my purse on the floor, the rose snapped off the stem and plopped onto the floor. All that remained pinned to my shirt were a few lonely leaves, sprigs of baby's breath and some glitter.
I sat back in my seat and laughed my head off. It was the worst morning ever--kinda like a bad movie. To this day, the absurdity of it brings a smile and I hope it makes you smile, too.