Mother’s Day 2019

Several years ago, as a gift to myself, I decided that as long as we are homeschooling our academic year would end the Friday before Mother’s Day and not resume until after my birthday in August. I am so good about making that happen.

We wrapped the 2018-2019 school year last week, and though we’ll continue with our French lessons and math review throughout the summer, the boys’ final grades have been turned it. Glory be, it’s summer!

For Mother’s Day, I woke up to the start of the Barcelona Grand Prix, which was exciting, and then we met at Grandpa’s apartment for lunch.

It was a relaxing day, for the most part. We went to a couple of shops and hung around the house. That’s all I want for Mother’s Day – little to no responsibility.

I can’t remember the last time I saw my mom in person for Mother’s Day, but now that we live near each other again, we should have no problem arranging it!

Look at my teenager, y’all.

And this one will officially be a teenager in less than a month, though I told him that after 12, we start counting backwards, which means he’ll turn 11 in June. He doesn’t believe me.

We have a few things planned for the beginning of summer, but otherwise it should be a slow-moving couple of months. Jeremy will continue his part-time job with the pool business, I’ll work on freelance assignments and other writing projects, and Jackson is determined to watch and review as many movies as possible.

If you missed my latest post for the Knoxville Moms Blog, click here.

Cheers! Happy Summer, everyone!

Privileged

When you are told you cannot conceive a child, you begin the process of what can only be described as mourning. A tidal wave of shock, denial, disappointment, anger, and sorrow come crashing into your being, and no amount of consolation can build a barrier strong enough to combat it. You crawl into a dark place to hide while every woman around you (it seems) rubs her pregnant belly in joyful anticipation. No, infertility is not a pathway to adoption. It is its own thing entirely, and until you choose to reconcile it, it is a haunting reminder of failure and defeat.

Mother’s Day, following our diagnosis, was brutal. The Sunday morning church service was punctuated when every mother and grandmother was asked to stand up and be recognized by the congregation. Applause erupted as a hundred or so women stood grinning. I sat in the pew staring down at my feet.

But.

Exactly nine months after being told we could not have biological children, we were given our first incredible gift through adoption. We spent four weeks preparing for Jeremy and he rocked our little socks off when he finally arrived in September 2003.

2003And just when one child would’ve been enough, God went and did it again. Jackson arrived in 2006.2006

To the women who are still wishing and waiting for their children to arrive, I share your struggle. I hear you. I know that darkness, and Sunday will be a harsh reminder of what you’ve yet to attain. There are no words to bandage that wound. Take comfort in knowing that you aren’t alone in that cave.

To the women with whom I’m privileged to share this charge, I wish you a peaceful and joy-filled Mother’s Day.

And to my own mother, I miss and love you. I wish we lived closer.

mom, me and becky in the snow

Perfect Mother’s Day

It started Saturday night with dinner at Aubrey’s, where I ate grilled swordfish with the most delicious parmesan spinach and drank cider on tap. Then there was peanut butter pie.

Sunday morning was coffee, reading and a brief showering of cards and a gift certificate for a swedish massage. There was lounging and perusing a used bookstore (which resulted in an old copy of Gone with the Wind and a Ken Follett paperback), and then there was Mexican food. The day ended with Mad Men reruns on Netflix in our pajamas.

Truly, it was perfect. Thanks, love.

 

A Mother’s Day Tradition

It’s been a long-standing tradition to visit the family cemetery on Mother’s Day weekend to decorate the gravesite of Grandma (Georgia) Miller. As most of you know, Chuck lost his mother last fall so we had even more reason to keep the tradition going.

After paying our respects, we walked around the cemetery identifying family plots. The earliest member we could find was born in 1843. For record keeping, I took photos of every headstone that bore the family name and quizzed Bill (Chuck’s father) on how we’re related. Every time we told Jeremy how So-and-So was related to him, he’d ask, “Did he fight in the Civil War?” Our little history buff is going to love our summer trip to Washington D.C.

Happy Mother’s Day Weekend!

Despite our move back to Tennessee, I am still about 10 hours away from my mother. And while that’s better than being 27 hours away, to visit my parents still requires a road trip – which will happen this summer. We’re coming, Mom!

(Mom, Becky and me, circa early 80s – Don’t you love my Sesame Street jumper?)

Happy Mother’s Day to all of you wonderful women, especially to the lovely ladies in my family. Whether jewelry, flowers, breakfast in bed, or a even a nap – I hope all of your Mother’s Day wishes come true. We’ll be celebrating at Dollywood where I might just ride my very first roller coaster. Maybe.

(This is our most recent photo together, which means I haven’t seen Mom since Thanksgiving!)

Love you, Mom! xoxo