My Most Memorable Mother’s Day


Since Mother’s day is fast approaching, I decided to share one of the best memories I’ve ever had to celebrate it with the kids. It still makes me smile and it will always be a great story to tell during family bondings.

What would a Mother’s Day be without a breakfast in bed? Quite boring, to tell the truth. The last Mother’s Day morning meal in bed I “experienced” was the generous gesture of my kids and my 7-year old nephew, Christian.

My sister and I share the same wedding anniversary date, though hers took place a number of years before mine. It generally falls within a few days of Mother’s Day every year. With her 20th anniversary looming, she and her husband planned to take a trip and asked me to keep their son while they were away. The trip coincided with Mother’s Day.

Not wanting to upset my nephew by reminding him that his mother wasn’t around, we decided to downplay the whole Mother’s Day thing. I’d already a number of other Mother’s Days so skipping one wasn’t going to kill me. We didn’t really mention it or make any plans to celebrate it. As far as my husband, Dave and I could tell, the kids were oblivious to the fact that tomorrow was Mother’s Day. At least that’s what we thought.

The morning arrived with a soft knocking at our bedroom door. Groggy and completely unaware of the plan that had apparently been brewed, we invited them in. There stood my kids and my nephew, each holding a tray of food they had prepared. The act alone stunned me. My eldest had never attempted anything like this before. But when I saw what they had prepared for Dave and me, my eyes welled with tears.

It’s hard to know to this day if those tears were from the pride and love that threatened to burst my heart that Mother’s Day morning or the dawning realization that we were going to actually have to eat what they had cooked up. While the items on the Mother’s Day breakfast menu were interesting, it was the presentation that topped it off.

We were each served coffee, which came as quite a surprise, as neither of them knew how to make coffee at the time. The look of dread on my husband’s face was a gift in itself. Dave has never touched a drop of coffee in his life and would rather drink drain cleaner than force of cup of coffee down. As I started to grin over this, I picked up my cup only to have the same look of dread cross my own face. The coffee was ice cold. Realizing they didn’t know how to make coffee, they used the leftover coffee sitting in the pot overnight. Naturally, it never occurred to them to heat it in the microwave.

Next was the toast. It was your ordinary, run of the mill, burnt toast. Completely blackened and slathered in gobs of butter in an effort to disguise the burnt appearance. I would hazard a guess to say there was more butter than toast. I could hear my cholesterol count rising. This would be no ordinary Mother’s Day meal.

The crowning glory of the breakfast was the main course, Lucky Charms cereal. Initially, I thought, “Oh, thank heaven, something I won’t have to choke down!” Then I noticed my husband’s expression as he gaped at his own serving. My eyes followed his gaze and came to rest on his “bowl” of cereal. Cradling what had promised to be the most edible part of the meal was an upside down glass pot lid, precariously balanced on its handle. How they carried that to our room without spilling the milk is one of the greatest mysteries of life in our household. We still talk about it. I returned my focus to my own bowl and noticed little chunks of non-Lucky Charms tidbits stuck here and there around the edge of the bowl. It looked a bit like last night’s chicken noodle soup.

The kids stood there, angelic and expectant smiles upon their faces. We put on our best “pleased parent” expressions and ooh-ed and ah-ed for them. When enough gushing over their generous Mother’s Day’s breakfast had been heaped upon them, I asked about the choice of dishes they used. It seems they couldn’t reach the bowls in the cabinet so they took the dishes from the kitchen counter. Yes indeed, the dishes I hadn’t gotten too the night before which hadn’t been washed.

We forced down a bite or two in front them, praising their culinary efforts all the while praying Salmonella wouldn’t set in. Making excuses to get them out of the room, we took turns dashing to the bathroom to dispose of the inedible offerings. Each time they returned to check on us, something would have “disappeared” from our trays, making them ever so pleased with themselves.

Every now and then I’ll see that pot lid, lying upside down on the counter and I’ll have flashbacks, ah, fond memories of the time it held breakfast on Mother’s Day. It is truly the most memorable Mother’s Day I’ve had…so far.