Alright, so I know this is way late. Mother's Day already seems AGES away. But anyway...
Here is the way Sunday morning went at our house:
I woke up. Remembered the kids were planning 'something secret' for me for Mother's Day. Was it breakfast that I didn't have to cook, or should I get up and start making some? Laid there for about 15 minutes. All was silent in the house. Finally I snuggle up next to Shane and pretend I'm not trying to wake him up. Here's our conversation in all its morning-breath glory:
Shane: "Good morning love."
Me: "Good morning sweetie."
Shane: "Happy Mother's Day!"
Me, getting right to the point: "Thanks! Um, I have a question. The boys were planning something secret for me for Mother's Day. Do you think it was breakfast? I wouldn't want to mess up their plans, if that was the plan...."
(Was I just trying to get out of cooking, you ask? You can bet your life on it.)
By this time, we could hear the first stirrings of life from the basement. So Shane got up and went downstairs. Soon he comes back upstairs and I can hear all manner of bustling in the kitchen. Conner kept trying to keep it a big secret, but Chance spilled the beans by asking what recipe to use. Shane ended up going in to help - for which I am thankful, because it may have saved my kitchen from a serious explosion. Soon I was drooling over the best homemade pancakes I've ever eaten. To make a long story a tiny bit shorter, all the waiting and eating made it so I had a mad dash ahead of me to get everyone ready for church. Luckily in all the frantic shuffling through drawers for clothes and yelling about shoes, Shane remembered that Payton had a talk in Primary and helped him put it together. And here it goes:
My mother’s job is sometimes hard, and I have heard her say,
“The hours are long, and if I could, I’d like to change the pay.”
Her profession has variety, and I will tell you now
About the many hats she wears—and why and when and how.
1. My mommy’s a nurse who fixes and patches
All of my hurts and my sores and my scratches.
2. My mother’s a chef who fixes each dinner
Fit for a king—a blue-ribbon winner!
3. My mom’s a chauffeur who drives pretty slow
But gets me to places where I need to go.
4. My mom’s a detective, and no one is greater
At getting the truth from me sooner or later.
5. My mommy’s a gardener and works really hard,
Planting and weeding and grooming our yard.
6. My mother’s a maid—at least that’s what she said—
‘Cause she cleans up the house and makes every bed.
7. My mother’s an angel—a queen in disguise—
Who teaches the gospel with tears in her eyes.
Today take these hats off, and please wear no other.
Let me do your work, to show I LOVE YOU, MOTHER!
The holiest words my tongue can frame,
The noblest thoughts my soul can claim,
Unworthy are to praise the name
More precious than all other.
An infant, when her love first came,
A man, I find it still the same,
Reverently I breathe her name,
The blessed name of mother.
Thomas S. Monson, “‘Behold Thy Mother’,” Ensign, Apr 1998, 2
OK, so I know that the stuff about the yard is a crock, and so is the stuff about making every bed (why don't I make the beds? For the same reason I don't tie my shoes after I take them off! It doesn't make sense!) but the rest was semi-true and, more importantly, pretty sweet. I may or may not have cried, just a little.
So Happy Mothers' Day to all of you Moms out there. Even though it's tough sometimes, thanks for doing the most important work there is to do.
