A great day to be a mom

What defines a perfect day?

For some, it could be winning the lottery. Others, a grand vacation. Still others, the realization of some longed-for goal. Whatever the occasion, I believe we know intuitively when we have experienced a day that stands apart. I further believe the mark of such a day is that we find ourselves overfilled with gratitude and love.

Mother’s Day 2006 was one such day for me. I heard the words echo in my mind as I watched my two sons back out of our driveway, together, smiling. My boys, my heart cried out. Those are my boys. It had been a long while since I had felt such fullness, and my mind and fears were momentarily stilled.

The day began with a family breakfast and a new recipe. Steve had gone to pick up his mother, Bessie, and son, Austin, while I fervently poached pears and blended stilton with cream cheese. Bacon browned on the corner burner while pockets were sliced into French bread. The table was set, the orange juice chilled, the strawberries washed.

Like clockwork, Steve returned with family members, and parents Kay and Lewie arrived. Hugs and kisses were passed, Austin poured the juice and Steve finished cooking the bacon. The stuffed bits of French bread were dipped in egg batter, rolled in crushed walnuts and lightly browned. Topped off with a reduction from the poached pears and we were ready to eat.

It’s always dicey to try a new recipe, but the French toast was a hit, and even Bessie cleaned her plate. Son, Cooper, had not shown his face, and we all knew that he was still asleep. He works odd hours and early morning is usually his sleep time. Steve did finally rouse him via cell phone, and chagrined, Cooper quickly made his way to the house for a belated breakfast.

Gifts and cards were shared, the parents said their goodbyes and left for their afternoon of golfing or baseball on TV. Austin helped with the cleanup, and when the kitchen had been returned to its pre-breakfast flurry, I commandeered the boys and Steve, and “dragged” them to see “Mission Impossible 3.” It was a wild, action-packed ride, with throat-choking impossible situations that somehow, Tom Cruise was able to rise above. Gotta love Hollywood!

OK, I admit it. It was Mother’s Day. I had a captive audience, and I took advantage of it. I had silly shopping to do at Target, Kohl’s and Costco, and I dragged them along. While I know they had things they would rather have done, my sons and husband dutifully aided in my purchasing decisions of sheets, towels and pots and pans. We played shopping-cart pinball, giggled over some horrid merchandising options, and continued to fill our day with laughter.

Finally, we headed back home. Just like when they were little, they began to pull the “are we there yet?” and “I’m hungry” whines. Since I hadn’t fed them since breakfast, except for movie popcorn, I had to agree that they were totally starved. I could see their emaciated faces in the rearview mirror.

A quick call to local Thai Bros., and a dinner feast was laid out on the table. Chicken sate, mixed vegetables, a spiced fish dish, rice and noodles. The boys ate with the same hearty appetite I remember from when they were small.

Maybe part of the perfect day was the blending of memories of my small boys with the grown men they have become. Their faces transformed from toddlers to whisker-laden adults. After dinner, their wrestling matches and the never-ending chatter about sports, girls, PlayStation games and the newest techo-cellphone-camera completed the day.

My heart spilled joy with every step down the drive as if a tiny trail of hearts marked my path. Growing up is a wild ride of highs and lows. Sometimes, we communicate easily. Sometimes we face one another with arguments and disagreements. Sometimes sorrow seems to blot out happiness.

But on this one day, Mother’s Day 2006, I can say I experienced a perfect day.

There was not one incident that made its mark. We didn’t win the lottery, but we did share one another’s hearts. We laughed, we cared, we held each other in the heart of the sense of family. For that, I am filled with gratitude.