Black Bear recently celebrated his birthday. Birthdays are big around here. When I woke him up that morning, all tingly and a little bouncy with happiness, I was almost speechless.
"Happy Birthday", I said with as many kisses as he'd allow before he turned his sleeping face away. I made his favorite breakfast and packed his favorite lunch. Every time we looked at each other I said, "Happy Birthday". Every thing I said to him was preceded by, "Happy Birthday".
He tried to make an escape that morning without me noticing . . . fat chance. I went out to the car and when I opened the door Black Bear said, "Happy Birthday".
"Oh, no! It's YOUR birthday, but it's MY mother's day!"
He looked at me with his half smile and nodded one simple nod of understanding.
"Happy Birthday, have a great day!", I said.
"Happy Mother's Day", he said.
I know that Mother's Day is the second Sunday of May. It just seems (for me) that day is more about Our Lady . . . my mother . . . my children's birth mothers . . . all of you other mothers. But MY mother's days are the days my children came to me, and especially the day my first child was born. The actual day I became their mother. The whole idea and joy and gratefulness of being a mother is so tangible to me on those days.
I have a coffee cup, given to me by my mother, that I make a point to drink out of on my children's birthdays and on their birth mother's birthdays. It reads . . .
"When I think of all the things that would have never been if you had never been . . . I celebrate the day you were born." ~ Flavia