Sunday just gone was Mother’s Day. What pleased me the most about the day is the way that my family makes more of the journey than the presents themselves. It’s an area where I think we’ve parented well because it shows in every aspect of our lives.
If you’re ever in a hurry to go somewhere, don’t go with me. I do side quests. I turn down roads that I’ve not travelled before because something caught my eye. I go the long way because it’s prettier. I stop without notice to take photos of sunsets, and bushland, and birds flying across the sky. Getting where I’m going matters, but so does seeing what’s around me.
We are the same with opening presents. My husband and I taught our boys that the first step is to acknowledge who sent the gift. So we open the cards, read them and show them to the rest of the gathered family. We take photos to send to the people who sent the present as our way of saying thank you. Then we open the present and thank the giver, either in person or by sending another photo.
Mother’s Day was no exception. The tradition in our house is to decorate the dining table in either the favourite colours of the person being celebrated or with a theme that they relate to (or that we’ve chosen for them). The tablecloth for me this year was a rich burgundy. My presents were all wrapped in matching pale pink wrapping paper featuring princesses and castles. A vase containing sprays of cherry blossoms and an orchid (all fake and admittedly left over from our 28th wedding anniversary) was part of the ‘pretty and pink’ theme.
My youngest son makes a game of seeing how ‘dad-joke’ he can make his cards. Yes, make. Both boys enjoy creating printed cards, and I enjoy receiving them. We have taught them that it’s the thought that counts, and I love the effort that goes into each card. They both really think carefully about the recipients. Youngest Son acknowledged my love of singing with a card that proclaimed “Looking Sharp” on the front and “Be Natural” with the matching musical symbol for ‘b’ on the back. I gave the correct response of laughing and groaning at the same time while also commenting on his cleverness. Well played, son.
For my part, I read the cards first, laughed at any jokes, and then set about appreciating the thoughts behind my gifts. My oldest loves card games like Dungeons and Dragons and Coins of McGuffin. With that in mind, he very thoughtfully bought me a game he thought I’d like to learn. It’s called Fairy Season and somehow involves matching fairies to win. I’m quite impressed that he worked out that such a game existed and went to the effort of tracking it down for me. My youngest noticed the faded state of my pink flamingo car seat covers and bought me new ones with a design in my favourite colour range. The black covers with embroidered hot pink and bright blue butterflies will look great in my car. The matching floor mats will also enhance the effect. There was also a set of Tinkerbell pyjamas and glow-in-the-dark socks. These boys know my love for all things mythical, imaginary and colourful, and I delight in how they go about finding things that cater to my particular interests. I also love how they’re not scared to present those gifts to me, knowing I will always appreciate that they thought about me when deciding what to buy or make.
While opening the presents, we played a game we created one Christmas. We don’t have extended family celebrations due to distance, so I wanted to slow down the process of opening presents and make the moment last longer. I was also tired of the mess of paper all over the floor, so we started balling up our wrapping paper and throwing it at a box. I’d say ‘in’, but it rarely goes in! I reckon we almost get as much fun cheering and consoling each other for our efforts as opening the present themselves.
This Sunday, I was sitting at an awkward angle to the recycling tub, which I couldn’t see from my chair. I knew it was the other side of the rubbish bin and blindly lobbed my wrapping paper ball in that direction. The applause and delight when it went straight into the tub was, I do believe, very well deserved. The next three balls missed their mark. That wasn’t surprising, given I couldn’t see the target, and I’m pretty useless at sports. But the last one redeemed all of my efforts. I tossed it in the general direction of the tub. Completely without any intention and definitely not due to any skill, it hit the bin lid and rebounded into the recycling tub! Yay me! My ‘team’ laughed and applauded my efforts.
The morning’s celebrations ended with a photo of me with my sons. I’m pictured sitting in a chair, with a son on either side of me, bending down to my level. All of us were a bit tired and still wearing our dressing gowns. I love that the images show us three adults together as we were in that moment on that day, robes and all.
These are the memories I will carry forward from days like this. My family cheering for me, choosing my colours, and knowing my likes and dislikes. My boys and I, together, draped in our robes and around each other, the moment immortalised by their father, my husband, the other much-loved member of our family. I felt celebrated, understood and accepted for who I am at this moment, as their mother and a person. For me, it doesn’t get any better than that.
A Glorious Mess 