Years ago I had glanced down at unkempt nails of varying lengths. I had worn a dress with baby spit-up stains. I looked in the mirror today. It wasn’t years ago. It was this morning — only I think the stain on the shoulder is meatball gravy.
Let me explain. I awoke extra early on Mother’s Day to make Swedish meatballs — one batch with bouillon gravy for my daughter with a gluten allergy and another batch from the regular recipe. Oh, yeah, I had to keep a few meatballs out for Couponman who is suffering from gout and can’t have salt. I made two chocolate cream pies from cooked pudding, not instant. Chocolate pudding is not my first choice, but Coco and the GAP live for chocolate.
“What’s wrong with this picture? asked Couponman, peering into the kitchen as the early morning sun shone in the window. “Isn’t Mother’s Day supposed to be your day off?”
“Yeh, right. I’m going to spend the day with Coco in Westwood,” I answered. “She has to work at the nursery and I told her I’d volunteer to help with the plants. Thought I’d take lunch to her.”
“But you’re making so many meatballs,” he observed.
“The other batch is for the GAP and her family. I want to make sure she gets a break on Mother’s Day,” I said. “I’ll drop them off on my way to church to see the grandkids sing with the children’s choir.”
He just stared at me. Like he’d never seen a seasoned mom in action before.
As I pulled out of the driveway, I noticed the white irises in bloom. Every year they are the last to flower, signifying the end of the season. The white iris, more plain than the other colors, must be the “Mom” iris, the last to be dressed, surrendering like moms do to make sure all their little ones all dolled up in bright colors before worrying about themselves.
“It isn’t Mother’s Day,” the GAP whispered to the family seated behind her as noisily two older grandkids opened up a space on the pew for me to sit between them, “It’s really Grandma’s Day.” A few insisting screeches later, the third one sat on my lap. Moms may be the white irises all right, ignored for the more colorful ones, but grandmas are purple — royalty!
Coco's Mother's Day gift to me
I came home hot, tired, and a feeling of being extremely blessed. Blessed with four children, three grandchildren, and a day amongst the colorful flowers. What a grand Mother’s Day.
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I loved this!
Grandmother’s day ~ that’s sounds very nice. Oh, well. I did get to see my grand-dog on Mother’s day.
I think the white Iris is beautiful as is the grandmother who grew it.