Overheard (already) in the BioMom-Baba-Eight-Big household:
This morning at 6 a.m. by our bedside whispering in my ear: Get up! Let's make Mom breakfast in bed! 'B.I.B.!"
My response: But Mom doesn't appreciate the B!
Her response: But I do!
My response: But you're not "I.B."!
Why isn't there a 'kids day'?
In getting Eight to get moving for her last day of Sunday School (BioMom enjoys going to church): I was thinking that I wouldn't have to rush today. . . That I could have a long breakfast. . . For Mother's day!
Why is it that every time I get you a present, you forget two minutes later and start bossing me around again?
I suppose I subconsciously, or even consciously downplay mother's day. As I've said before, we separate the two days, BioMom getting mother's day and I get father's day (or Baba's day as it is known around here). The kids and I have been giving BioMom a stepping stone with their chubby little hands imprinted on them while the cement was still setting, since 2002 or so, and we usually join with a neighbor or two and have a nice dinner.
But there's no real fanfare around the day in the sense that, I suspect, our Eight, with her penchant for the dramatic, would prefer.
I lost my mom when I was nine.
I certainly think of her today (as I do on most days, I suppose). And yes, I have, on occasion celebrated her more formally, a tree planted in her honor here, a bush or rock placed there.
But there is always this little pang in my heart as BioMom wraps presents for her mom and makes plans for lunch or a run to the Dairy Queen.
And hence the somewhat passive downplaying of the day.
They're at church now (BioMom and Eight). Big just woke up (9:15 a.m.!) and I'm thinking of turning the day around, turning up the fanfare.