My mom was in town, so I got her to myself for most of the day (sorry, brothers). After congratulating ourselves on being such amazing mothers, we treated ourselves to a nice brunch. Then it was home to relax, where I imposed a strict rule that we couldn't do any chores or cleaning. We pretty much succeeded, except for making dinner. (Unless we wanted Top Ramen--Mark's specialty--we had to cook a little. But we made Mark clean it all up.)
Mom and Mark did sneak off for a bit to buy me a present. Mark insisted he was not late, as there were still a few hours left in the day.
Upon his return, he scrambled around, first searching for a gift bag, and then in the kitchen. He was hard at work on something in there, warning me to stay out so I didn't ruin the surprise. I happily complied.
My brother Smed and his fiance, Shanda, also came to visit. We welcomed Shanda into our little celebration, wishing her a happy Mother's Day, since she's also amazing--a loving, stable mom to my little nephew. She was so sweet, bringing us little rose plants and wine. We had one big happy mom vibe going on.
As soon as he finished wrapping my present, Mark handed it to me.
"Open it!" he commanded.
"I can't," I told him. "Not until after dinner."
He insisted I open it immediately, in case I wanted to use it. I gently refused, reminding him there's a gift protocol--it's not a present-ripping frenzy.
But when I did open it, I realized why he wanted me to do it before dinner--he wanted me to use the gift during dinner.
That's right, he got me a set of specialized beer glasses--different kinds of glasses for different kinds of beer. Some moms get flowers for Mother's Day, some moms get beer glasses. Apparently, I belong to the latter group. (And in related news--boy, does that kid know what I like!)
"He picked it out himself," my mom said proudly, and I couldn't help smiling. "He said you only drink out of one glass."
I do, but it's awesome--my special Samuel Adams glass, created specifically to offer "a full sensory drinking experience by fully showcasing Samuel Adams Boston Lager's complex balance of malt and hop flavors," according to the brewery. (So yeah, one glass...)
"Thanks, buddy!" I enthused. "This is great!"
"That's a really cool gift," my beer-drinking friend Shanda said, admiring the set. "The beers really do taste differently depending on the glass."
Mark also included a Bud Light Lime Strawberry Margarita in a can. I wasn't sure which glass to use for that one, but Mark said I couldn't drink it at room temperature. (Whew!)
"I'll get you a beer!" he said, excitedly.
I was completely full from dinner, but there was no way to get out of an after-dinner beer without hurting the little guy's feelings. So as he got a Sierra Nevada from the fridge, Shanda and I read the descriptions to figure out which glass to use. We were torn between using the pale ale glass and the craft pub glass--Sierra Nevada's technically an India pale ale, but it's dark golden in color, like the beer in the craft pub glass. We finally opted for the pale ale glass and darned if the beer DIDN'T taste better in the specialty glass!
And so I enjoyed my beer with my other gift--a marshmallowy batch of Rice Krispie Treats that Mark made. (Coincidentally, it's also his favorite dessert.)
I hugged Mark and thanked him, and gave another silent thanks as well, for this crazy kid in front of me. The one who drives me nuts sometimes, who pushes my buttons and makes me want to scream in frustration. But that's not all he does--he also makes me insanely proud, of his kind and gentle nature, of how much he cares about his friends and family (and cats), of how sweet and silly he is. He makes me laugh, often, loudly. He asks me thoughtful questions, and engages me in conversations that are both thought-provoking and hilarious, often teaching me just as much as I teach him.
He opens me up to all sorts of things I never thought I'd do or be interested in. He tests me, yes, but not just in a bad way--he prods me out of my stubborn Dinsdale ways, encouraging me to try new things, new flavors, new thoughts. He makes me a better mom, and in doing so, he makes me a better person.
So yeah, in a way, Mother's Day is about me. But it's also about my mom, all the love she gives me, and how much more I appreciate her since getting my own child. And it's about the kid who made me a mom, too. His best gift will always be himself. Because, funny cards and breakfasts in bed aside, the best thing Mark ever made me was...a mom.
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