A Freudian Slip is When You Say One Thing But Mean Your Mother

I was in the store last week looking at cards. I had two wedding cards to buy, one graduation card and a birthday card. After picking all of these out, I walked over to the Mother's Day cards and spent some time looking through them. This was to be my first Mother's Day without a mother. I read through several, choosing the ones I would have bought for my mom and my mother-in-law. I really missed that this year. As the day got closer, it felt like I had forgotten something, like I hadn't done something. And then I realized it was the cards...I no longer needed to buy them. My mom and mother-in-law loved cards. You could skip the presents all together...but they liked a good card. My mom liked anything with a religious connotation to it. I'm not sure how to describe what my mother-in-law liked, but I always knew it when I saw it.

I cried a little when I got into my car afterwards. Grieving is a strange process. Just when you think you are ok, something like Mother's Day comes along and kicks you in the shins. My stomach felt funny all weekend knowing that there would be a time during the day when the awareness that she was gone would wash over me. And sure enough it happened, but in a good way. During our church service, the minister presented roses to moms. It reminded me of the year that I bought mom a corsage to wear to church on Mother's Day. I remember thinking that she would enjoy that and how excited I was. Unfortunately, it turns out that years ago, different colors meant different things. Whatever color I bought her meant that her mother had passed...but at the time, she hadn't. Oops. Now I had no idea about this...I probably bought it based on what she was going to wear. But this caused great turmoil in the household. I remember mom and my aunt holding court as to whether or not she could wear it. In the end...she could not. People would talk. Well, on Sunday morning, this memory made me laugh to myself. Those are times that will never come again, but at least I carry the memories with me. No one can take that away.

The little one presented me with a hand-made card which I loved. She had brought it home from school in her book bag and it was a little crushed. It was the kind of card that is orchestrated by the teacher. The verses were sweet, but definitely not the words of my little one...( Thanks for giving birth to me?) But when I turned the card over, there, in her little handwriting, was "Dear mom, you are a really, really good mom. You do good stuff for me. You cook for me. I love you." Well, that was all I needed. A true sentiment.

The boy did not make a card. He had already established with me that his artistic abilities just do not cut it and he was a little old to be drawing hearts. Instead, he patted me and tackled me at regular intervals all day long, adding "I love my little mommy". Again, perfect.

Big sister is now reading this and getting ready to call and apologize for not sending a card. However, she drove and hour to see me, and this trumps a card any day.

The husband, in usual gift-giving fashion, made my day. When I woke up Mother's Day morning and strolled into the kitchen, there on the counter was an adorable card, signed by both little ones. There was a new (and very cool) coffee mug. There was a "trashy" magazine...one of those grocery line type that you don't buy, but also don't mind reading. And there was a nice bottle of Sauvignon Blanc (with a really neat label which gets me every time). I laughed to myself thinking that it was his subconscious way of giving me what I needed to get through the day. On top of that , he took me to IHOP to get french toast, which cured me of any sadness that I had.

Well, today is the husband's birthday. I already have the card. He doesn't do coffee, so the mug is out. He drinks a very occasional glass of wine, but not enough to justify a bottle. He reads the trashy magazines, but only if they are lying around. His best friend will take him to lunch and most likely give him a great gag gift. Big sister will give him some candy. The boy will tackle him when he walks in the door and say "Yo dad, Happy Birthday". Little one will draw a big heart with the words "I love you" in the middle....These will have to do, because in the end, what do you get the guy who has everything?....I guess an appreciation for who he is and what he brings to all of our lives. For the little one, that would be a great tickle-monster. For the boy, a great coach. For the big sister, a boss, an ear and a good step-father. For me, a friend who has made all of the losses of the last few years bearable...and so much more that could never be put into words...

So Happy Birthday to the husband, and until tomorrow, when we are all a little older and wiser...