“There was never a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him to sleep.”
-Ralph Waldo Emerson-
When my darlings were wee, little babes, I spent many, many, many hours rocking them in the recliner and relished the moment they went limp in my arms as they went to sleep. I loved the feel of their soft breath on my neck and the little whimpers as they dreamed. Those are some of my favorite baby moments which more than made up for the colic and the screaming, teething, tonsillectomies… and the list goes on.
I wouldn’t trade being a mom for anything. And I try not to exasperate my children, but I’m sure I often do.
Why do our mothers frustrate us?
But I would like to be more specific.
Why does my mother frustrate me? (It’s my blog and therefore, it’s about me.)
I know lots of people complain about their mothers, but really??? I just had a conversation that lasted 35:51 and 7/8ths of it was a non-stop gripe-fest. I just wanted to tell her, “Mother, it’s mother’s day. Would you just shut up and be happy that I called and wanted to talk to you?”
Brownie point for me.
Maybe next year, I’ll just send a Hallmark card and call it good.
I guess Florida Scott Maxwell was right… ” No matter how old a mother is, she watches her middle-aged children for signs of improvement.”
Today, I’m not feeling improved. I am feeling pretty spoiled though. Darling Hubby made me breakfast in bed, bought me flowers and mowed the lawn today. Yes indeedy. Pretty spoiled.