Yesterday, we went to the beach. (See? The beach. Jellyfish make your brother uneasy, can you tell?)
I had to drive home by myself, because I had to work and the three of you and Daddy were visiting your cousins. You had a good time, Daddy told me so.
As I made my way along the long, winding road, I decided that I needed a little music in my life (as I always seem to), so I turned on the radio, and Taylor Swift crooned at me through the speakers. I turned up the volume and took a peek into my rear view mirror to see if Lana was going to dance with me.
Except Lana wasn’t there. Neither was Levi. Neither was Hanna.
I was by myself.
I started to cry, and I turned off Taylor Swift. It didn’t make sense to dance alone.
Sometimes, it isn’t good to be by yourself when you feel sad.
I thought about how Hanna asked me 82736493 times if I liked her hair that morning. Of course I do Hanna, I am the one who did it for you.
This is Hanna. She’s my oldest. She’s super awesomely fantastic.
I thought about how Levi kept telling me his shoe had died in the car on the way to the beach. I told him that I was so sorry that his shoe had died and that it was very sad. Lana started giggling in the third row.
“What’s so funny, Lana?”
“Mom, he is telling you his shoe is UNTIED”
Mom’s funny, huh, Duckie? You’re a good big sister.
I thought about how tired I looked when I woke up in the morning. Levi is undecided on whether or not he needs to keep that last nap (please, for the love of all things holy, don’t ditch that nap), and he’s been a bit testy lately. Garrett and I aren’t getting a whole lot of sleep.
You’re so cute when you sleep Levi.
Thinking about the kids makes me think about my husband.
He’s pretty darn handsome. You’ll have to take my word for it.
I remembered that tomorrow would be Mother’s Day. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to turn the car around, speed back to Uncle Glenn’s house and scoop all three of you up in my arms.
Did I tell you I loved you enough times before I left? Were you still upset with me for raising my voice to you that morning? Did you still hate my guts for not letting you go play with your friends after we found food in your room (again)? Would you forgive me (eventually) for taking your computer away after we caught you playing Minecraft when you should have been doing your homework?
I pulled up to the house and my phone let me know that I had a text message waiting. I’m pretty sure I always have a text message waiting.
It was from my husband. Well, our oldest daughter, who had my husband’s phone.
It was a selfie, with her Dad driving next to her, and her younger brother and sister sleeping in the backseat.
I’m going to ground you plenty. I’m going to make you cry, hurt your feelings (not on purpose, mind you), enforce the rules, encourage you to make better decisions, take your toys and privileges away and make you do your chores.
That’s my job. That’s what I signed up for.
And you might be celebrating me tomorrow. Ya’ll might make me breakfast (thanks, honey), clean the house and take me out to lunch, but I have a secret.
I celebrate you guys every single day.
See all those photos up there? They are all teenie, tiny little celebrations. They remind me of just how much love there is in our family. They remind me of the first time I held all of you in my arms. The scrapes I’ve bandaged up, tears I’ve wiped away, sharpie I have cleaned off of the walls (thanks for that by the way, Levi), nail polish I’ve painstakingly removed off of my leather dining room chairs (looking at you, Lana) and chocolate wrappers I’ve cleaned out of underwear drawers (ahem, Hanna).
So, thank you my darling children. Thank you for making me a Mother. One day, your kids will celebrate you and I hope you feel every bit as lucky and blessed as I do today, and every single other day of our lives together.
And by the way, I’ll take my breakfast and my iced coffee on the front patio.