Motherhood is a lot like having breakfast in bed

Being served breakfast in bed is the scene that plays out in my Mother’s Day memory rewind loop.

Those breakfasts served up much of what it means to be a mom. They were an exercise in patience as I lounged in bed, the aroma of bacon making its way down the hall. I wanted to shout to the boys, busy in the kitchen, that a cup of coffee would be nice. Instead, I did the motherly thing and let them make their own choices.

When the tray finally arrived, stacked with enough food for the day, I was full of praise and gratitude. My thankfulness and joy was genuine, if not partially fueled by the fact that nothing had been spilled or broken during the delivery of my morning meal. I recall the special touch of a flower, picked from the garden, in a bud vase. That detail could be a mother’s embellishment, added during the many recollections of the events.

Being a mom meant that I ate the toast (most of it), all three greasy fried eggs with very firm yolks and that long anticipated bacon. Not only was I eating in bed, I was doing so with an audience that included two smiling sons and the dog. This was also the time that Ben and Sam would give me their homemade cards. As a mom, I naturally thought their spelling mistakes were cute but also considered creating a spelling list.

Some of those cards have been saved, because that’s what moms do. We compile keepsakes like tiny sneakers, handmade baby quilts, beloved picture books and pieces of art. One year my breakfast was served alongside a vase that Sam “made” at school by gluing tissue paper pieces onto a bottle. He had fashioned tissue paper and pipe cleaners into a flower that bloomed from the top. That was a keeper.

So mom, enjoy your day, whatever it brings. Being a mom means you’ll find something to treasure.