It was a good weekend with my family, full of good food and togetherness. Theo wished Beatrice a happy Mothers’ Day several times, explaining that she would some day be a mommy too.
You know, sweet stuff like that. And this –
Saturday night we watched one of my favorite movies starring one of my all time favorite Hollywood moms – Overboard, with Goldie Hawn. That movie gets me every time. It’s such a good love story, not just between some guy and a girl, but between a woman and her children, birthed not of her body, but certainly of her heart. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll want to go putt-putt golfing!
The gang took me to lunch after church on Sunday at what has become our go-to family restaurant. Last year we ordered the kids spaghetti and meatballs which they ate eagerly and with every body part imaginable. This year we smartened up and ordered pasta with a white sauce – much easier on the ole church clothes.
We came home and enjoyed coffee on the patio. The boys gave me their gift. We spent the afternoon taking a long, glorious nap.
When I woke up from my nap, I told Mike about a weird dream I had. I was in the van with the kids and they were hungry, so I decided to hit a drive through to get them something to eat. I placed the order, but then the woman on the other side of the intercom said, “Ok, but you’re going to have to come in and help me make this.”
What?! I was outraged. I told her that was ridiculous and that I’d be calling her manager. I told her the whole reason I was even there in the first place was because I didn’t want to cook. She just laughed and said that either way, I needed to help. The dream went on the play out several variations on that same theme in different settings with different people. So weird.
It was one of those dreams that didn’t just feel weird in the moment, it stuck with me. The kind that makes you want to try and physically shake it off.
But Mike, being the husband that he is, didn’t say much other than, “Don’t cook tonight. Let’s get pizza.”
He wins the golden prize.
We ordered our pizza and took it to one of our favorite spots. We ate both pizzas. The boys played. Mike took a sweet photo of me and my Bea. The sun was still warm as it started to set and cast a glowy goodness over all it touched. It was kind of perfect.
There is so much of motherhood that feels new and scary. So much that feels difficult and out of reach. And then there are just as many moments that feel good. Safe. Satisfying. The pizza, the picnic, the three little heads, it all felt so right.
I have to constantly reign in my thoughts about life. I have to remember that dreaming big is great, but not if it takes me out of the realm of inspiration and into the realm of discontent.
This weekend I asked myself: “Of all my dreams, if I could only choose one thing, what would it be? If I had to let everything else go (apart from my marriage), what would remain?”
Of course, it was them. I choose them.
It’s always been them.
And, in case you’re wondering why I wrote Mothers’ Day as opposed to Mother’s Day:
hisgirlfriday14 Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. A day that is irrelevant to some, and difficult for others. Motherhood isn’t a club you join, it’s a club you’re born into. It’s a sisterhood. All women are mothers – whether you have six kids or zero, whether you want kids or don’t, whether you can get pregnant but choose not to, or desperately wish that you could but can’t.
We are all mothers. It’s in us to nurture, to grow life, and to inspire newness.
The truth is, Anna Jarvis didn’t invent Mother’s Day. She invented Mothers’ Day. Catch that? She didn’t create a day to celebrate the individual, but the whole. She herself never had children, but she desired to create a day that honored those who put collective action and social justice first: women.
So tomorrow, honor all your sisters who are here on earth, making this place a little better and a whole lot brighter. Honor those with kids, honor those without. Because no matter our family choices or chances, we can all deliver LOVE. (retrieved from my Instagram)