I love Mother’s Day more than my birthday. You see, I didn’t do anything to deserve my birthday. Really, we should be giving my Mum a present on my birthday. She did all the work in getting me here! But Mother’s Day…...on Mother’s Day I feel like I have earnt my cup of tea in bed, my burnt breakfast pancakes cooked lovingly by Miss 11 and my right to not do any ironing, cleaning or cooking.
I earnt the soft knock on the bedroom door this morning, not wanting to wake me up too early but too excited to sit in the lounge room with my gifts. My gifts that they agonised over at the school Mother’s Day Stall. That they drew, painted and wrote during Mother’s Day Craft at school. That they secretly put together in the garage yesterday while I was out doing groceries.
But the thing that I earnt that I love most of all, is the proud look on their faces when I open those hand made and $2 gifts while we all sit on Mummy and Daddy’s bed first thing in the morning. That is the thing that I love most about Mother’s Day.
I love that stare, waiting to see if I love the coffee mug full of lollies as much as he thought I would. To see if I am as excited by the ceramic oil burner as she thought I would be. That proud look, as he hands me his “I Love my Mum because….” writing task that he did in Literacy Groups this week.
They could be handing me anything in the world, but if they have that gaze of anticipation, waiting to see if I love it, then they can be guaranteed that I will adore it. I adore that they put so much thought into every part of their gift. Whether it is agonisingly wandering from one end of the table of Mother’s Day gifts, over and over, $2 in hand waiting to spot something that they think I will love. Or it’s the countless rubbings out on their writing, trying to spell, “She is beautiful.”
I love it because they think I will love it and they chose is just for me.