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Happy Mother’s Day!

Growing up, mother’s day was always strange for me. I’ll admit, I was extremely fortunate to have not one, but two moms to celebrate and three grandmothers to celebrate. Of course, this also changed as I gained a mother-in-law and two additional grandmothers to celebrate too. The point is, it was always a strange holiday to celebrate.

I think it is because I knew someday I would (hopefully) celebrate it. Or maybe I felt it was strange because in class I would color pictures or do crafts for my moms and didn’t think anything of it. I knew I loved them and I knew my artwork showed it, but really, it wasn’t anything significant or special or something to brag on.

When I would give my mom my artwork, she would light up with oooohs and ahhhhs. It made me feel good, but as I got older, I knew it was just something parents said to make their kiddos feel better…. at least that is what I thought.

Since becoming a mother, I’ve realized that the smallest of things really do mean the most. In the NICU, Mark’s nurse (and one of my very best friends, Mallory) would do artwork with his handprints and footprints. Once dried, almost every craft we’ve done at home or in therapy has been placed in a box for safekeeping.

This was Mark’s first year in school during mother’s day and the crafts he’s brought home over the year have been my favorite ones yet. I look forward to his artwork. I look forward to the hand-drawn drums and the cut-out handprints. I love the colors he chooses and the way he somehow ALWAYS makes a circle.

For a holiday that seemed so odd to me as a child, it certainly made its way to becoming my favorite one of all time. It was always my dream to become a mother someday- and now that I am, I completely understand all of the gushing oooohhhhhs and ahhhhhhhs my mothers gave me over my artwork and crafts and cheap or silly presents. In my own way (and with some guidance and instruction), I was showing them how much I love them with the skills I had- even if it meant just adding a dash of glitter or picking flowers from the ditch.

Now I get to experience the same thing with my son. I get to watch him express his love in his own unique way and with skills he’s acquired in school and therapy. Equally enjoyed as much much, I am blessed I get to create these memories with him with how we spend the day celebrating together.