I get it, Mom
My mom’s favorite mother’s day memory was when my brother, sister, and I made her breakfast in bed one year. We got up early to make some eggs, toast, and fresh orange juice on a tray with fresh cut flowers. She heard all the commotion in the kitchen but stayed in bed and pretended to be asleep as we made our way to the bedroom, careful not to drop our tray. She tells this story often and we smile and nod, knowing that we made her happy that mother’s day morning.
That mother’s day memory was special to my mom, but I didn’t get it. It was just breakfast.
Until today.
Hubby ran in to wake me up with a chuckle. Baby was still asleep and he said, “Come downstairs and see what the boys did.” Groggy and all, I made my way downstairs where my boys were waiting with anticipation. As I entered the kitchen, they shoved their cards and school presents into my hands and hugged me with a chorus of “Happy Mother’s Day.” Then they sheepishly said, “We made you breakfast.”
As breakfasts go, this one was simple. A piece of toast with jelly, a hard boiled egg, and a glass of milk. But this mother’s day present was much bigger than breakfast. There was a lot of thought put into this.
My kids don’t do a lot of cooking with me. They see me in the kitchen all the time, but they don’t participate in cooking. Now that I think about it, I noticed my oldest helped me make bagels for an after school snack this past week. I realize now that he was getting some practice in so he could do it by himself. He enlisted his little brother’s help Sunday morning and had him pour the milk. Dad heard the ruckus and went to check on them. They asked for his help with the gas stove to make the egg. Breakfast was complete.
It was just breakfast, but really it was so much more. They spent the morning making breakfast so I could have the morning off. Their faces read that they were hopeful that I would appreciate their efforts. I am so touched that my boys took the initiative and showed so much forethought with this simple meal.
They saw it as breakfast. I see it as a moment that shows that they have been listening and learning the lessons that I’ve been trying to teach. It was a gift of thoughtfulness and reciprocation. It was a gesture of appreciation. It was done with humility and hope that it would make me happy. I was happy. I am happy. And I cried and I hugged them hard because I couldn’t put into words how much this Mother’s Day meant to me.
I get it now, Mom. I too will be telling this Mother’s Day story for a long long time.
journal | louisa | 
May 13, 2012 2:42 pm | 
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