Mother’s Day Picnic
As Mother’s Day approaches, it is impossible for me not to think back over the years since I first became a mom (and how quickly that time has passed). My two little boys are now grown men but they still like to make me smile. Sometimes it is a warm and appreciative smile. Sometimes it is a shake-my-head-and-sigh smile. And sometimes it is a throw-my-head-back-and-laugh-out-loud smile.
When they were little, I loved the cards and gifts that were made at school. Things like:
- little ceramic, hand-formed vases or cups,
- construction paper cards decorated with buttons and drawings of me (thank heavens stick-figures are skinny, am I right?),
- poems with prints of their paint-dipped hands, and
- anything with a photo of them smiling into the camera
are all stashed away in my memory trunk (literally and figuratively).
As they grew, and baseball started dominating our spring calendars, we spent many Mother’s Days at the ballpark. The bleachers became my throne and the concession stand my buffet.
And then there were the teenage years …
I’ve heard stories about the “less than enthusiastic” participation of teenagers in honoring their mothers on this day. In our home, this was not the case. These were the years that sarcasm and humor became the vehicles for sharing feelings and appreciation. My boys would search and search for just the right card for me … especially cards with recorded messages that played when you opened them. Here’s an example of what could have been expected:
Sometimes I would see a television commercial or on-line video that would bring tears to my eyes because it just seemed like something my boys would do:
As more years would pass, we started doing things together FOR Mother’s Day but not necessarily ON Mother’s Day. One year, I was presented with four tickets to a St. Louis Cardinals baseball game scheduled for Father’s Day! I was a good mom and used the other three tickets to take them with me.
As you may have noticed, I often use this beautiful, wicker, picnic basket in my photos. It has a very special place in my heart and reminds me of one of my earliest Mother’s Days. Marty and I were both in grad school (i.e. broke) and our oldest son was maybe two. There was a wonderful kitchen store in downtown Ames that I loved to browse. It was one of those stores that, when money is tight, you can stroll through and think, “Someday, I’d love to have a (insert object of desire) just like that one.” That was the case for me with this picnic basket.
On Mother’s Day that year, Marty told me that he and Nick had a surprise for me but we had to go somewhere to get it. We drove to a nearby park and got out. He asked me to get something out of the trunk of the car and when I did, there was my beautiful picnic basket … and it smelled like fried chicken! When I lifted the lid, I found fried chicken and all the appropriate accompaniments to make a perfect picnic.
The credit for the creativity, thoughtfulness, and joy of giving that my boys have goes to their dad. Marty always took the boys shopping, included them in his master plan, taught them how to keep secrets, and showed them the joy of making their mom feel special and loved. I’m not sure if my “warm and appreciative” smile, my “shake-my-head-and-sigh” smile, or my “throw-my-head-back-and-laugh-out-loud” smile will be most appropriate tomorrow. All I know is that I will be smiling because I have been blessed with two happy, healthy boys and a picnic basket loaded with good memories.
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