For the past twelve years, the boys and I have have gone all out for Mother’s Day. We usually plan it weeks in advance and create some sort of special production for Bridget.
In the early years we recorded audio postcards with their cute little voices telling her how much they loved her. (She still listens to those CDs). Later, we filmed a few videos of the boys talking about her, put to music. We wrote and recorded a rap song for her one year. (Here’s an audio link to some of those audio highlights over the years, if you’re interested) Another year Tommy created a video game for her on his computer, in which she was the star. Another year we produced a program for a music recital and then the boys performed it for her in the parlor (that’s what we called our living room that day). Last year, it was a poetry recital–each boy wrote a poem for her.
But this year she said: “You know what I want for Mother’s Day? I want to sleep. I don’t want breakfast in bed (which we also gave her every year). I don’t want any special present. I just want complete, uninterrupted, lengthy, deep, deep sleep. And I don’t want to be disturbed before noon.”
She’s the queen today, so her wish has been granted. This year the show has been shuttered. The cast and crew have been given pink slips, and the stage hands have put all of our props into storage. There will be no audio postcards, no videos, no songs, no recitals, no poems; just silence.
I put the boys to bed very late last night so they would sleep in this morning. (They’re still sleeping as I write this at 10am–mission accomplished). I put the fan on in our room so that the chirping birds wouldn’t wake her up. I slept on the couch in the living room, just in case I snored. I took off the dog’s collar so she wouldn’t jingle as she walked around the house, and I woke up early so she wouldn’t bark if she needed to go out and do her business. I set the coffee machine last night so that I wouldn’t make any noise this morning. I’m walking around with the telephone in my pocket just in case it rings.
And so far, it’s working like a charm. The house is completely silent.
When she wakes up, the boys have a practical gift for her and some store bought cards. I’ll try to whip up some enthusiasm in them before they hand the gift to her, and then after she opens her cards and gift, and says “Oh thanks, I really needed that!”, they’ll do their best to behave well for a couple of minutes, before slipping back into their normal selves.
You know, just like Father’s Day.
We’re fulfilling her wish, but I suspect we might be asked to re-assemble the cast and crew next year. I’ve never experienced the kind of Mother’s day love she’s gotten in the past, but I have experienced 16 Father’s Days.
Another name for them is: “Sunday”