If I told you I spent Mother's Day in a blissful state, basking in the simple joys that being a Mother of three beautiful beings brings, I would be lying.
I may or may not have, plotted with my best friend about selling the children on Ebay, and using the money to foot the bill for some new bathing suits and a cruise vacation (rest easy Mom, we kept the kids, and we officially turn in our resignations for the running of Mother & Aunt of the year).
I may or may not have instructed Nate to "taste this potato salad, and tell me it's the best I've ever made... even if you don't like it"… a possibly "or else" may or may not have been threatened.
I may or may not have, slid into a, Nate proclaimed, "Sam show" moment, by loudly requesting the only thing I wanted for Mother's day was 10-freakin-minutes, to clean the bathroom without the toilet being played in, the trash can getting dug into, or shampoo eaten.
I may or may not have exasperatedly verbalized "By making the decision to eat rocks, you are simultaneously making the decision to poop rocks!" to my 11 month old daughter, while the other two encouraged her with muffled giggles, only fueling my irritated state.
And I may or may not have, had 4 more glasses of wine than I needed, using the excuse of Mother's day to pour my first glass, well before the thought of dinner was even entertained.
Though yesterday felt like it was overwhelmed with moments of dog food being eaten, whole rolls of toilet paper unravelled into toilets, brother's fighting, a container of pepper being dumped out, and empty threats of selling my children being made, this weekend had some very Happy Mother moment.
For one, Friday's special escape of Joey and I having a "girl's only" trip to the dairy bar, for Joser's first ever dairy bar experience, while the boys did "guy stuff", that afternoon.
Or the fact that Saturday, before having a Mother's day BBQ, Nate and I snuck away to take care of some top secret business, that may or may not have to do with an almost 3 year old boy and an almost 1 year old girl's birthdays, that are fast approaching.
One delicious lunch, birthday items collected, and a trip to a local beer store later, we were heading back home in the midst of an amazing thunder storm. The first taste, of hopefully, many to come.
I love thunderstorms. The excited energy, baited waiting, quiet patience, and the underlining danger that is brought with the blink lost moment of a most dangerous current. Without needing much more, than to hear the rumbling of something so large, I encourage ever rumble, eagerly scan for the next flash, giddily watchful, thrilled to be reminded, in this big ol' world, how very small we really are.
The fact that a little boy, who's confidence got boosted, by stepping out of his comfort zone, that is usually plagued with too many fears of the unknown, not only conquering his bike, but the ramp as well, made for one proud Mumma… And this Mumma is proud.
If I'm honest with myself, Sunday, was not unlike any other day at home, it's my fault my patience were low. My expectations of the busyness of this house to slow down, just because breakfast was served in bed, was futile. There is no denying this house has life, the kind of life that is so promising, the kind of life that is so healing, you can't help but wrap yourself in it, and be so thankful it is yours.
Mother's day or not, they are mine, and I may or may not, know how lucky of a Mumma, I really am.