Instead, what I got was my brother, who kicked Mark awake, grunted, "Get your shoes on," and left.
They returned bearing my mother's special request breakfast -- donuts and menudo. I was feeling a little woozy from my friend Nicky's 40th birthday party the night before, and could've used some menudo myself, except that...well, it's gross.
After breakfast, all the m o ms opened our cards and gifts. My mother proclaimed herself the "root" mother, and reminded us that if it wasn't for her, none of us would be there. Really, she could've just said. "I want to go first."
She opened the first card, from my brother Scott, and I burst out laughing. I'd picked out the exact same card! (I told you my family all has the same sense of humor!)
My sis-in-law Mary went next. She read a beautiful card my niece Nathalie made. Then she read the card from my nephew Grant, who's in kindergarten. He proclaimed that his wonderful mom had brown hair (sometimes), was 14 inches tall and weighed 40 pounds.
Last came a card from Gabi, in third grade. Her card read, "Thank you for t e a ching me to eat h e a l t h y, even though I don't," and said she admired her mom's ability to always know what Gabi was thinking about. ("Root beer!" Nathalie shouted.) It was signed, "From your favorite child." I couldn't stop laughing.
Next was my turn. I opened Mark's card, which showed two little bears complimenting their mom. It devolved into them fighting, but here's what it said inside:
"Both of us?" I asked my only child. "You mean Good Mark and Bad Mark?"
Apparently, Mark needs to read the cards he picks a little more closely! (He picked out a gra duation card for his friend's birthday last week.) Mark's gift was a little ring holder he made in class -- I loved it!
He also gave me this homemade card:
"Now it's time to relax," I said, as the kids cleared the table.
"Nope, we have to make lunch," my mom replied. She explained that we were having homemade mushroom ravioli for lunch, and Mary and I were in charge.
"I have to COOK?" I asked. I don't like to cook on normal days -- I sure didn't want to cook on my special day!
"Yep," Mom answered. "Because you're the newbie mom." I did the math, and she was right. Dang it!
So cook we did. All three of us m o ms, all morning, while the kids played outside and my dad and brother watched the war channel on T.V.
"This Mother's Day is a rip-off!" I yelled at them. "You guys are coo king for me on Father's Day!"
My mom added insult to injury, forcing me to make the salad, too, and even set the table. I told her I wasn't coming home for my birthday, since she'll probably make me scrub the floors or clean the pool.
When lunch was finally ready, we popped open my mom's favorite champagne. She clinked my glass to hers, and smiled.
"Happy Mother's Day," she toasted, then added, "Newbie!"
Lunch turned out fantastic, and my mom was hugely entertaining throughout the meal. She downed her champers, and regaled us with stories of her bad Mother's Day. She told of her first Mother's Day, when she was pregnant with Scott. My dad took her to dinner, but forgot to make reservations. Every restaurant in town was booked, so they ended up eating in the coffee shop at a bowling alley. She also told us of the time my dad gave her the credit card and told her to buy herself something nice. Little did he know those four simple words would haunt him the rest of his marriage!
So yes, I woke up early, and yes, I cooked all day. But I laughed the whole day, and it turned out to be a pretty god Mother's Day after all.
Even for a newbie like me.
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