It seems like most every mother I know posted rosy pictures and sweet notes on social media yesterday.
This is not one of those posts. It’s not a soap box post about the history and the commercialization of Mother’s Day in the US, either.
It’s a little snippet of our day, and hopefully one that will make you smile.
We’re in a rush. The herd of circus turtles is running about fifteen minutes behind our ideal out-the-door time, and we still need to stop for flowers. Little Man needs a nap. He passed out in the Pack ‘N’ Play for about twenty minutes, so we’re hoping (and praying) he falls asleep again while we’re on the road. And soon.
First, we’re stopping at Costco for flowers.
Hubby planned to pick out flowers with Big Dude for me during the stop. He asked me to come in and pick out flowers for the family we’re going to see. I tell him it’ll be faster and easier it I go in alone with Big Dude for the flowers. So off we go, charging into the store.
In the store we search high and low for the right bouquets. Big Dude is listening intently to what I’m saying about the different flower options. He loves the calla lilies. He loves the roses. There are some arrangements in small, squat vases. He loves those. I started to select one of these for the mothers, then spy another table with precisely what I’d been hoping to find. Big Dude, however, is done flower shopping. He found an arrangement in one of those vases for me. He picks it up and asks me to carry it (because the vase is too heavy).
It’s lovely. But for the dead flowers. How do I point out to the five year-old that maybe there’s one without dead flowers that he could pick without being an ungrateful mom? Or the choosy beggar? He did pick them out all by himself…and they are pretty.
Well, I wage that debate in my head for several minutes, then devise a way and to ask him if he wanted to look for one without any dead flowers.
No, he likes these flowers.
What’re you gonna do? He did pick them out by himself and I am capable of dead-heading the past-bloom flowers.
Then we go get in line and I realize I’m surrounded by men with flowers. Husbands and fathers and sons. There only a few other women, all of whom happen to be there are either with their partner or older kids. And here I am, buying my own flowers. My own, dead flowers.
I think I’ll stay in the car next year. Or at least, not tell turn down hubby when he offers to come in and help Big Dude pick out my flowers. 😉
How was your Mother’s Day? Social media picture perfect? Any big OY moments for you?
Happy trails and thanks for reading!