Mothers Day

I always feel kind of weird about Mothers day. On the one hand, who doesn't love macaroni necklaces and handmade cards? On the other hand, I didn't become a mother to get thanks- I had my children and care for my children because I love them. My payoff is happiness AND frustration, in equal measure. I know that I am a devoted mother, but I also no that I'm not very good at a lot of things, from cleaning to being patient, so I feel strange during mothers day talks. Today for example, Mark spoke in church. During Mark's glowing tribute to his mother, Daniel flung himself off the pew multiple times, knocked down the hymnbook rack twice, tried to stab the girls in front of us with a pen three times, took off his shoes, pulled off my earrings and sang his ABCs at full volume. We ended up in the church kitchen, listening to Marks talk over the intercom. Afterwards as I tried to exit the church with my six children and boxful of mothers day "gifts", I was blocked by all the youth giving out flowers that I will kill within the week. I felt a little sad, a little amused, but mostly tired- what I really wanted was a nap. At home, I got the nap, plus more homemade gifts, plus dinner made by Mark and the girls, and now I am full and rested but have a trashed kitchen to work on. I LOVE being a mother a lot of the time, hate it sometimes (mostly when there is vomiting involved), but mostly I am just doing my best. Happy Mothers day to all the moms in the trenches.