So, I got nothing. Yesterday, I mean — for Mother’s Day. I mean, I got nothing I can wear on my neck or stuff in a drawer somewhere. No words written down, to read for years down the road. No flowers.. or trees! No chocolate.
I have to admit I was a little miffed when I woke up and realized that nobody remembered it was Mother’s Day. Dee didn’t wish me a happy Mother’s Day until I asked him if he’d wished his mom a happy Mother’s Day, and the kids didn’t even know Mother’s Day existed.
I waited all day to see if at least a card would pop up somewhere, but no. I cried after Dee went to bed, while I finished cleaning up the kitchen, but even in the midst of my disappointment I knew I was being foolish. Really, truly.
(All day, actually, that thought was tickling the back of my mind, the Holy Spirit trying to make me see…)
Earlier in the day, that morning, I realized that Dee got up with the kids and let me sleep in (Kbug threw up in the middle of the night, so no church), fed and dressed the kids, and brewed me coffee all without realizing that it was Mother’s Day! Because that’s the kind of man he is. He always lets me sleep in on the weekends, if his schedule allows, and he always makes me coffee when I wake up. And fixes it for me, because he knows how much cream and sugar I like. And he burns the trash and mows the grass with the kids, and he spends hours in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes from his birthday party on Friday. And he takes us all to the mall and stops at Starbucks on the way home, even though it’s not Happy Hour yet. And he makes a fire outside and cooks pancakes outdoors. And he gives the kids baths and tucks them in bed. And he rubs my feet, and my back, because he knows I’m aching.
He did all this on Mother’s Day, but the day was only coincidence. He does stuff like this every day!
So I ask myself, Would I rather have a card and special treatment one measly day out of the year? Over THIS? This everyday loving?
I think it’s silly of us wives to put such a huge expectation on our men to “perform” one day out of the year, with huge risk of failure. And I think it’s stupid of us to not notice the little, huge lovings our men heap on us all year long.
(Not saying I wouldn’t love something next Mother’s Day! Me and Dee, we might yet have a nice, calm chat about that.)
So I wiped the tears away and crawled in bed with my warm man. Content. I’m disappointed in myself now, for having moments during that day when I treated him unkindly because I was still miffed. Sigh… the things he puts up with! I love this everyday lover of mine.
(And maybe there’s some after-Mother’s-Day-chocolate on sale somewhere? I can always treat myself!)