I’ve got the mother of all mothers

Unless you live under a rock (or under a rock that doesn’t get cable), you knew that Sunday was Mother’s Day. Is this the ultimate example of an over-commercialized Hallmark Holiday? Yeah, probably. But it still holds a lot of importance. According to the always-accurate Wikipedia, “Mother’s Day recognizes mothers, motherhood and maternal bonds in general, as well as the positive contributions that they make to society.”

Put me down as being in favor of all that. Regular readers of this blog know that I’ve made my feelings about my mom pretty clear, but in case you’re new here, I’ll make it quick: I’ve got the best mom in the world. She’s incredible. She took great care of me for the nine months before I popped out, and she’s been topping herself ever since. This is a woman who:

• Never batted an eye when, after I was first born, she had to wake up every two hours to feed and change me, and she let Dad sleep straight through the night.
• Knows every trick for getting me back to sleep when I wake up crying.
• Turns mundane activities like bath time into my favorite things.
• Is always singing English songs and poems that (I’m sure I’ll realize once I get older) are all slightly dirty.
• Sewed me a homemade Santa hat by hand.
• Has called it a night early from outings to put me to bed while Dad stays out with friends.
• Has excellent spoon control.
• Subjected herself to the horrors of the breast pump for far longer than any person should reasonably be expected to.

As far as I’m concerned, there’s only one black mark in her ledger. Even so, that makes for a pretty impressive winning percentage.

Now, obviously, Sunday was Mom’s first Mother’s Day (unless you count last year, when I was still in her belly, but that’s silly), which meant that Dad and I were under a little extra pressure to make it memorable. So on Sunday, Dad paid for a private sailboat excursion that took us out into Elliott Bay, then after a lunch of lobster and filet mignon, he hired a skywriting pilot to spell out “Happy Mother’s Day, Lauren” in huge letters in the sky.

OK, so he didn’t do that. He did, however, make her breakfast in bed while I snuggled with her (after I let them both sleep in until 9 a.m.). We also presented her with the Mother’s Day gift that the two of us had worked on together: a framed photo of me, flanked by my handprint and footprint. Needless to say, she was impressed.

We followed that up with a trip to YaYa and Grandpa’s house for a fun day of frolicking in the sun with my cousins, Jackson and Brooklyn, and some delicious fish tacos (courtesy of my Auntie Amy and Uncle Ben). A good day all around. Although skywriting would’ve been pretty cool, too.

Anyway, Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers out there! But mostly to mine.