So for our Mother’s Day celebration we met all the kids at Kilkenny’s for dinner. Yeah, one of my favorite restaurants, and since I didn’t want to clean and cook and no one else did either, perfect idea!
While we were there, I decided we should play Happy Mama Memories. You know, where the kids are supposed to remember really sweet things I did for them as kids?
- The Halloween costumes I created for them, sewing late into the night.
- The time I saved Brad’s life by realizing he had appendicitis and rushing him (by myself!) to the hospital in Tulsa.
- The time I insisted we take Matt to a plastic surgeon rather than let the doc in our Small Town World stitch up his lip with a fish hook and baling twine. (Okay, slight exaggeration, but you get my drift. 🙂 )
Did that happen? Uh . . . nope.
My kids took it a step farther, as usual, and played Mom’s Most Embarrassing Moments, blow by blow.
- Such as the time the neighborhood crazy woman decided she wanted to whack me with a shovel, and I walked myself out where she stood (with her big-mama shovel) and said go for it.
- And the time I went nose to nose with one of my kids assistant soccer coach who didn’t go to any of the practices, but thought he should yell louder than the real coach and tell the kids what to do (even though they had no idea what he was talking about because he wasn’t at the practices.)
Coach Wannabe: “Just because I can’t make the practices, does that mean I can’t be part of the team?”
Mean Mommy Susan: “Yes!”
Coach Wannabe putting on a big whine: “Well, that’s not fair.”
Our party took a good hitch after that. #1 DIL told us when she started feeling loved by the family–When she told us she’d spewed all over my bathroom, and I answered, “No problem.”
I LIKED that one. 🙂
Okay, nobody ever will offered me the Mother of the Year Award, but I love the stuffings out of my babies, which surprised me and my mother. (I was so not a little girl who liked dolls!)
And I love the stuffings out of them and their wives now, even though they know where all the bodies are buried. (And don’t mind talking about it.)