Breakfast in bed? You must be a mom!

Me and my bridemaids 2010. No, I have no idea how I came to have such
beautiful children, either. Recessive genes, I guess.

I made myself cranberry-orange muffins today for Mother’s Day. They came from a box, and were pretty tasty. My kitchen is now way less of a mess than on past Mother’s Days, when my children decided to “cook” for me.

The American tradition of burned toast, raw in the middle pancakes, and over-cooked eggs is charming. Seeing those shiny little faces and hearing their cries of “Happy Mother’s Day, mommy!” just warms your heart, doesn’t it?

A minute later and mine were fighting over who should get credit for what.  “No, I made the toast!” “Mommy, she’s lying! She didn’t do hardly anything.” “No, you’re lying!”

My daughters and me at my Antelope Valley College graduation, 1997.
I think this was the very last time my younger daughter (in my cap and gown) was the same height as me.

And then you got up after the feast and saw how they laid waste to what was once your kitchen.

I jest, but I wouldn’t have traded breakfast in bed for anything. Well, maybe an expensive hotel’s room service….

My daughter with her Golden Ticket into the Mom's Club.

I realized the other day in the Hallmark store how my Mother’s Day card shopping has decreased. When my kids were little, they had two sets of grandparents, and I still had living grandparents, and I bought cards for the kids to send, also. So — mother cards,  grandmother cards, great-grandmother cards — it was about 12, if I remember correctly.

This year I only had to buy two.

I was issued the very first rewards card at the Hallmark store in the mall. Greeting cards have always been an expensive proposition in my house. From time to time I get those reward checks that only remind me how much I spend at the card store.

Can't you just imagine him
bringing Mom breakfast in bed?

My husband says he doesn’t remember what they did for his mother on Mother’s Day. She died when he was in his early twenties, so it’s not surprising. I like to think of him making her breakfast in bed, but he was the youngest, so he probably just got in the way.

Or maybe he brought her the paper, went and sat with her and chatted until the bigger kids got done in the kitchen. That sounds like him, because being companionable and cheerful are things he’s really good at.

I wish I could have met her to say “Thanks.”

But, the torch has passed, and today my daughter is the one being feted. I don’t know about breakfast in bed, but she got mimosas in bed yesterday. She posted a Facebook photo of herself later, drinking the champagne straight from the bottle, so I guess it went well.

If you were Charlotte's mother, you'd drink too...

My younger daughter posted that if that’s what Mother’s Days are like, she can’t wait. Sign her up.

My mother has been getting nothing but breakfast in bed for weeks, but the food is horrible, so I broke her out of the rehab hospital for an early Mother’s Day lunch yesterday.

Against all of our advice, my mother had her knee replaced, eight weeks before my daughter’s wedding. On the East coast, in Rhode Island.

We tried to convince her that it could wait, that she should tough it out until after we got back from the wedding, but she wasn’t having it. She met with a surgeon who said he’d have her up on her feet days after the surgery.

My mom and great-grandchild Charlotte.

I hate to call anyone a lying bastard, but here we are, five weeks later, and she’s still in the hospital. “Up on your feet” is not exactly the same as “walking.” I guess the recession is even hitting doctors, and with so many people losing their insurance, well, you just have to make the most of those Medicare patients.

“I just bounced back last time,” my mother told me. Uh-huh. The last time you had a knee replaced? You mean 20 years ago? That last time? When you weren’t in your 70s?

So, with 18 days until the wedding, we have to get her established at home and figure out how she’s getting to hair, nail, and doctor appointments, as well as find her a dress.

It used to be that I only had to worry about my daughters not taking my advice.

Happy Mother's Day to all!