Happy Mother’s Day (a Few Months Late)

You know the saying, A Day Late and a Dollar Short? Well, how about Over Two Months Late and Flat Broke?  I’m not really broke. But I just got back from Target, so there’s that.  I guess my claim is semi-honorable, emphasis on semi.

We were mosly there because the Tiniest Tiny had birthday bucks that were burning a hole in her pocket.  The big kids were with Nana and Grandpa Dave at Wild Waves.  To quote my British gentleman friend, otherwise known as Siri, “It looks like Wild Waves Theme & Water Park is about 43 miles away as the crow flies, Knee-cole.”  Thanks for that, Siri.  Anyway, if you met me in real life you’d know that I’m not one to rock the boat.  But I’m not shy about my feelings about water parks or bathing suits in general.

Back to Target.  It was just the two of us, a rarity now that Lauren is older and in school.  What do you suppose my six-year-old chose to spend her money on?  Well, the Tiniest Tiny hand-selected four Barbie outfits, a marbled-blue bouncy ball and a purple travel toothbrush.  I have complicated feelings toward Barbie, but Lauren’s love for her is true and runs deep.

I came home with two cases of La Cruix, and a faux watercolor print of three feathers to hang above my oak writing desk.  The feathers, and really all things bird-related, reminds me of the three Twedtlings, as well as Psalm 91, which is a significant part of our family’s faith story.   I also bought two different types of dry shampoo.  The struggle is real to find the perfect dry shampoo.  We’ll see how it goes.  I solemnly swear never to write a future post about the chronicles of dry shampoo.

As I type, the Tiniest Tiny is happily treating Barbie and Ken to a day at the hair salon at the kitchen counter bar.  They’re getting the whole nine yards, well except for the haircut part of the salon experience because no, just no.   What Barbie and Ken lack in the full salon experience, Lauren is making it up to them in dry shampoo hair treatments followed by a deep conditioning of Young Living’s Thieves Hand Purifier.  “Mama, it’s the best day ever!” At least they smell delightful. Hopefully their hair won’t fall out anytime soon.

I suppose it’s very privileged and first-worldly of me to claim that I’m broke.  But there’s truth to the other part of my claim: I’m more than a few months late.  And when I say I’m late, I don’t mean I’m late in that way.  Oh no, my friend, I’m alluding to Mother’s Day and the entire month of May.   It seems that I convieniently skipped a month of writing.

I remember May being the end of volleyball season for Emily, and we were nearing the end of the autism evaluation process with Steven, which you can read about here and here.  No wonder I was too busy to write.

But Mother’s Day is on my mind this Thursday afternoon because I found myself scrolling through our family’s digital photos while Lauren’s Barbies enjoyed their day at the spa.

I landed on several pictures of me with the Twedlings on Mother’s Day.  The pictures are just terrible.  I never posted them here or even on Facebook or Instagram because, frankly, they made me angry.  Here are the photos  in all of their glory, each one more terrible than the one before.  And not because of lack of skill of the photographer, not at all.  Let’s just say it was a challenging moment I’d rather not be reminded of.  Plus, my normally round face is extra puffy.  You can tell how tired I am.  It’s not even 10 a.m.

Come to think of it, the morning of Mother’s Day began wonderfully, with a flourish of gifts and breakfast in bed, a promising start.   The day quickly went downhill from there.  It had everything to do with Steven-in-the-middle, though the details are unimportant in retrospect.

After meltdown after meltdown, we made our way to my favorite bakery in Redmond for Mother’s Day treats.  The Flying Apron was actually my third choice for how I envisioned spending Mother’s Day with Greg and the Twedtlings.  We bailed on favorite spots number one and two due to, you guessed it, more meltdowns, and a little rain.  We’re near Seattle, after all.

This post isn’t a rant about Steven.  Like every child, my boy has his share of naughty moments and poor choices but he’s my favorite guy under forty-seven.  You can guess the name of my other favorite, the one about to turn forty-seven.  Please understand, there’s usually a darn good reason for his meltdowns and misbehavior, often leading us to seek out and implement Plan B.

I don’t know why I’m writing about Mother’s Day in July.  I guess I’m writing because, looking back on these pictures from the month of May, I find myself laughing, really, really laughing as I’m reminded once again that time doesn’t erase tension but has a funny way of erasing some of the pain and frustration, or at least it kinda sorta helps me place matters into perspective.  I’m reminded that the unexpected, the unplanned, in it’s own wonky and wayward way, and when I’m not fighting against it, well, it’s also good and sometimes even wonderful.

Lauren would say the best thing about today is that I allowed her to go to town with her Barbie dolls and her business of all things beauty (except haircuts).  My favorite thing, besides watching Lauren’s delight in dry shampooing the heck out of Barbie and Ken: those hilarious Mother’s Day digital photos.