Mother's Day

This has been a week of disappointments for the family. Nothing major, just small let-downs that nag a bit. I chalk everything up to the anxiety of the move, but in reality, it's just the little bumps we regularly encounter in life seen through the prism of the move. It's easier to blame the inevitable changes than to accept that life is less than perfect. James Joyce's ineluctable modalities of life.

Here's an example: Friday was my daughter's fourth birthday. My dear husband made a beautiful dinner for the family, and even baked a layered cake, frosted it, and shook sprinkles on the top. It was a beautiful cake made with the love of a Daddy for his little girl. The only problem was it was pink.

My sweet princess wanted a pink birthday cake last year. This year she wanted chocolate. In fact, she told her uncle that the only thing she wanted for her birthday was a chocolate cake. All Uncle Dan-o could say was, "I thought you knew!"

When we cut the cake, my little angel's face fell, and she burst into tears.
"I wanted chocolate!"

She was inconsolable. Not even the dozen or so Dora-themed gifts could help her overcome the bitter disappointment of the pink cake. And no one felt worse than her poor Daddy. Since then, a steady stream of chocolate cakes have made their way to our home from loving neighbors and relatives.

And of course, all is forgiven.

Here's another example. Sunday was Mother's Day, and I had a wretched cold. We went to my parent's for brunch, and then left the kids there while my husband and I went grocery shopping. Then I went home and nursed my sniffly nose and achy throat. That was it. That was Mother's Day.

It wasn't that we had made spectacular plans that had to have been cancelled. It wasn't even that the kids had any expectations at all for the day. I just felt like a big party pooper. I should have insisted we take the kids to a park or for a fun day with Mom, but I couldn't muster up the enthusiasm.

With only two and a half months until the big move, I feel like I should be making memories; doing all of the touristy things we planned to do but never got around to. I want the kids to have fond memories of their hometown and the life we had here. It really has been a wonderful life, in a mundane sort of way.

There's still time, if I can shake this miserable cold!