The Mother's Day I Learned to Chill

I've always felt it terribly ironic that Mother's Day falls in May, one of the busiest months of the year. Graduations, First Communions, Field Days, Early Dismissals, Athletic Banquets, Academic Awards ... the list goes on. Who has time for Mother's Day? But one year, in the midst of all that busyness, I learned to dance the Hoedown Throwdown ...


Last weekend my sixth grader and some of his friends decided to go see Hannah Montana, the Movie. Why that movie? I have no earthly idea. Maybe it was because the group consisted of both boys and girls and this was one they could all agree on.


Since my son was the one who organized this outing, I told him that I was staying with the group as chaperone but that I promised to sit far, far, faaaaaaar away.


So, I went to the movies with a bunch of sixth graders who pretended not to know me.


But that was okay with me . . . after a while, I pretended not to know them because I so wanted to be Hannah Montana.


Suddenly, for two delightful hours I forgot I was a mom and a wife. I didn’t think about 8th grade graduation, school banquets, teachers’ gifts, carpooling . . .


No, instead I wanted to pull out my guitar and play a folk song. I wanted to paint something. I wanted to create, and beautify, and design. I wanted to dance the Hoedown Throwdown.


It’s not that I was nostalgic (or at least, not much anyway), but I think the movie was a subtle reminder for me to just chill.


Lately there had been too much responsibilty and seriousness. Lately there had not been enough fun and silliness.


Then, for Mother’s Day my son gave me the Hannah Montana movie soundtrack complete with links to access the lyrics and the dance video.


What’s for dinner?


I’m not really sure. But wanna dance the Hoedown Throwdown with me?

How do you do Mother's Day?

Here's my opinion on Mother's Day: I enjoy the attention.


Let's face it. I can be a mom martyr for 363 days of the year -- running here, driving there, being at everyone's beck and call -- but on Mother's Day BRING IT ON.


The attention, I mean. I don't need gifts (although that's a nice perk) and I don't need to be taken to a restaurant (I actually prefer pizza and a movie), but what I do like is the same love and attention that I get throughout the year but ... more of it. Pile it on. The thicker, the better.


Shameless, I know.


So this year Mother's Day began with Cinnamon Crunch Bagels from Panera because, really, is there a better bagel out there? I know, I know. Carbs. Calories. Yadda, yadda, yadda. But that's why I only have them on SPECIAL occasions (the last time was New Year's Day). So in my world Mother's Day is most definitely and emphatically a bagel occasion.


Served with a cappuccino. Can't have one without the other.


After breakfast we took a mid-morning hike/stroll through the woods and along the Savannah River. To be sure, it's a route I take often, sometime alone or sometimes with Joe, but on this day EVERYONE came. No one complained and no one was in a hurry to get home, so for the time we were climbing up hills and over tree logs they were mine, mine, MINE!


And I don't mean that in a heart-two-sizes-too-small Grinch way, but in a Henry Wadsworth Longfellow "in the round-tower of my heart" kind of way.


After the hike my heart was full (well, the bagels helped, too) and I was perfectly content to spend the rest of the day curled up with a good book. But after lunch Joe had a very Mother's Day-ish idea.


"Let's go walk around the Morris Museum of Art," he suggested.


Whoa.


Now, I could have insisted that the boys come, too, and they would have, but the whole idea of Mother's Day is to highlight the fact that Moms are pretty great. And understanding. So I kissed the boys goodbye and left them waging some battle on the PlayStation while I went to the museum with Joe.


At the museum we lingered in the two rooms featuring art by James Michalopoulos whose painting are so rich with color and texture that they blew me a way. I loved his work, and I would highly recommend going to see the exhibit except this past Sunday -- Mother's Day -- was the very last day. Sorry. But I did take lots of photos . . .


So there you have it. Mother's Day was all about bagels, a walk in the woods, and an art museum. Nothing complicated, but pretty darn nice.

At Least There's That

So I'm sitting here, fingers poised over the keyboard, and ... nothing.


It's a horrible place to be, to have this need to write -- to create -- and yet not be able to come up with anything.


This month always does this to me. From beginning to end it's non-stop reports, final essays, school banquets, end of year parties, and requests for this and that. You would think that on a year in which our family didn't have a high school graduation (last year), a Confirmation (two years ago), or a First Communion and an 8th grade graduation within a week of each other (three years ago) that this time things would be different ... but no.  Just as busy. Just as ridiculously crazy.


And the driving. My God, the driving alone can drive you nuts. Half days, exam days, differing dismissal times in two schools ... uhm, road rage anyone?


Someone once dared to mention that Mother's Day is in May ... at least there's that, right? ARE YOU SERIOUS? I'm too busy to celebrate Mother's Day in May. Just give me a dark room and an entire day when no one talks to me ... that's what I want for Mother's day.


I sound grumpy, don't I? Or slightly unhinged.


Well, I made Limoncello last week. It will be ready in a few days.


NOW I'm smiling.


Limoncello in May.  At least there's that. Right?

Making Limoncello