I'll admit it—Mother's Day is my favorite day of the year--better than my birthday. Way better. Being a mom is the toughest, most challenging, and most rewarding thing I'll ever do in my life, so why not celebrate it? Since both of my sons are now grown men with their own lives, it's harder for us to coordinate our calendars. Of course, we get together on the holidays, but there are always so many distractions then with the big meals, the gifts, meeting the needs of other family/friend obligations, etc.
Mother's Day is different--the focus is on us just being together, my sons and I (along with the girlfriend, guest doggy and grandgirlies this year). No fancy gifts needed, no dress-up brunch or dinner. Just give me some laughs with my guys and I'm good. My older son, Ryan, always comes up for Mother's Day, no matter what. He's never missed one, even though he's lived down south ever since he left high school for college. I love him for that.
meeting uncle ryan's plane
And for the weekend, Forrest somehow manages to juggle the drama and keep the peace among the four females in his life—not an easy task, believe me! He and Ryan go out of their way to make me feel appreciated, and this year was so good that it was almost more than I could take. The care, the love, the sweetness they showed me was beyond description. It was the little things that I'll remember the most, among them the gift of the most heartfelt, tenderly written words from the soul of a poet.
We've had our struggles and our ups and downs, but we've always been there for each other--no matter what. I know I can count on them, and they can count on me. I'm enormously grateful, and am so, so proud of each of them. I only wish my own mother was still here to enjoy them...in spirit, yes she is.
My guys are very different, and yet they are similar in the ways that truly matter—they are kind, they are wise, they are loyal, they are love. To all you young moms out there struggling with the growing-up years of a colicky baby, or a fussy toddler, or the difficult teen years—just hold on. The best is yet to come...
(and don't even get me started on the grandgirlies--I'm one very blessed mom and grand mom)
as I move through the messiness of daily life. Not 'bad messy' necessarily, just the stuff that life is made of. I'm thinking about Einstein's Three Rules of Work: 
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