Tessie mentioned that she had not read ONE barfy** Mother's Day post today and was concerned that the sheer number of them on Monday could be a little OVERWHELMING in the nausea department, so in the interest of her keeping her breakfast down on Monday, I'll post one NOW rather than then. Of course she may not read it until Monday, but hey, I did what I could. Also, as it is not yet Mother's Day, I suppose another barf-inducing incident could occur here, which I may or may not report to you on Monday, thus rendering my act of kindness here today moot.
Today was SB's Mother's Day thing (there's got to be a better name than Mother's Day THING, but for the life I've me I can't come up with it) at her pre-school. We mothers showed up and, with our children, decorated tongue-depressor picture frames and planted pumpkin seeds in little styrofoam cups that we also decorated with Sharpies. Ooh, wait, I can take a picture:
Sorry I don't have the picture frame, but it was left at school so that SB can put a picture in it that a teacher took of us today. Before we got into the crafty projects, though, we sat around a circle and one of the teachers showed pictures that the children had drawn of their mothers and reasons why they loved them. Here's mine:
I should probably address that rather large bald spot I have on the top of my head. A combover or something. Anyway, after the teacher read the description and was getting ready to show the next picture, SB said, "Aw, I forgot to say, 'And she's funny.'" I mention that because I probably don't come across that way here, but really? In real life? I'm a freaking laugh-a-minute. Seriously. But I digress. After the circle time and our crafty projects, the kids sang songs to us and then we had monkey bread and apple juice on placemats the kids had made. There were also "cookbooks" with recipes straight from the noggins of our little ones, so I wouldn't recommend actually MAKING any of them. Then it was time to go home, but not before we were each presented with a plaster replica of our child's hand.
Now, inside the cover of the "cookbook" I brought home was a "Recipe for a Mother." SB decided she wanted to make it. So she drew pictures to represent the ingredients (things like "love" and "laughter" and such) and cut them out, got a mixing bowl and a spoon and went to work making mothers.
She made mothers off and on all afternoon, and then she decided that we should make a mother or two together tonight before bed. So we did.
After we were done...
Me: What are we going to do with all these extra mothers running around?
SB: I don't know.
Me: They could clean and cook and do the laundry. And chauffeur you guys around.
SB (laughing): And they could do our chores!
SB (gets serious): But YOU have to come to Mother's Day at school.
SB: I wonder how you make a FATHER?
**For any HATERS out there (though I really have yet to come across one HERE, I'm just covering my bases), I do not actually think any of this is BARFY. No, I save all my puking for those "you're such a wonderful friend" email forwards. Obviously, you don't know me AT ALL if you're sending me this drivel. Unless of course, you're sending to me so we can make mean-spirited fun of it together.