My track record for motherhood is a twisted tale of illogical trial and error experiments. Let me share an honest statement with you. Not many mothers know what they are doing. They wing it! If you think they don’t, just ask a woman who no longer has secrets to hide.
I feel triumphant that my son graduated school, married, found a solid job skill and now has a son of his own. It’s like a big wipe of the sweaty brow followed by the statement of wisdom, “Whew”!
My son is full of tales I’d rather he didn’t share and truth be told, I will try to sign him to a contract of non-disclosure one day. Since he’s likely to disagree with that request, it’s probably best I out myself first.
I can still recall the day I awoke with cake powder all over me. I can only surmise he was hungry and since I was still sleeping, he thought he would bring the batter to me in hopes it would cook on my warm body. Another fond memory actually took place on a “Mother’s Day” in my past. I can recall my teenage son leaning over me to awake. He was holding a breakfast plate of pancakes while it poured syrup all over my chest. An endearing memory for sure and I like to think of this one as a “sweet memory”.
In the upcoming barrage of gifts given out for “Mother’s Day” I would like to give a gift back the child who bore my constant experimentations – I love you son.