Sunday, May 13, 2007

Fun Gus

My husband is in Germany and I’m celebrating mother’s day solo, with my two beautiful children. They’re beautiful but sick. It’s been this way for four days. Henry has a horrible, seal cough and throws up every time he eats. I think he’s lost some of his robust 26.5 lbs. Abby is severely constipated and her stomach hurts most of the day. So I’ve spent my days leading up to mother’s day administering Milk of Magnesia, monitoring poop frequency and consistency and sitting on the floor while the pooping happens. I’ve also been cleaning up vomit during each meal. Appetizing.

After an early morning, special run to the drive-thru Starbucks, Abby wanted to go see something in the front yard. I looked out on her, still in her jammies, golden hair glowing in the morning sun. She was picking something in the yard—“oh,” I think, “how sweet. She’s picking me some small wild flowers. A mother’s day bouquet.” I sneak inside so I won’t spoil her surprise.

She walks in and says, “Mommy, look!”

I do.

She’s holding a bouquet of nasty, disgusting fungus. Mushrooms harvested from our own front yard. I hate mushrooms. Despise them. They make me gag and creep me out.

She holds out the offensive offering and wants a vase for them. Luckily, I had to put Henry down for his nap so had to delay this next step. They’re now patiently waiting on the back patio for a place of honor, until Abby remembers they’re there (or forgets that they’re there…)

Ultimately, it’s fitting that I’m spending mother’s day being a mother, in the truest, rawest form. Taking care of the two loves that grant me the opportunity to be a Mom, Mommy, MammmmmmMa. A dream that wouldn’t yet be realized if Abby and Henry weren’t here.

A big nod to my parents and grandparents and Brian’s parents and grandparents, and all of their parents before them. If it weren’t for each of our families, neither he nor I would be here. Neither would Abby or Henry. It’s a sobering thought. How many mothers have come before me, making our journey possible? Cherishing the uncherishable, even fungus bouquets.

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