Every Mother’s Day, for the past 13 years, I have woken up to a yummy omelette breakfast that is served to me in bed. My family brings cards to me, they shower me with love and I experience bliss. This year I woke up quite late. The house was quiet. I heard no hustling or bustling in the kitchen. I started to think everyone had forgotten about me. Maybe the thirteen year streak was over. Maybe my kids were just too old for my Mother’s day breakfasts. For years my husband has been suspicious that I take these once a year phenomenons for granted. Maybe to some extent I have in the past.
Thoughts started racing in my head. Thoughts like, maybe it’s not so bad, I don’t need the calories….I’m okay with not eating breakfast. Isn’t anybody coming? Where is everyone? Should I get up? But I can’t get up cause I could ruin the impending breakfast. Then again, what if no one comes to my aid with eggs and toast? Has everyone finally given up on this tradition? Oh MY G-D, they have given up, of course they gave up. Why would they want to continue? At some point, I guess it had to stop. This can’t go on every year till eternity. I started to face the real fact that last year may have been the last year that I would ever experience the Tombosky Mother’s Day tradition. After all, my eldest child is going into high school. Everything comes to an end eventually, right?
Cling, Clang, hammer- hammer? Noise reminiscent of a family brawl can be heard from downstairs.
Suddenly my daughter comes barreling into my room.
“You’re up?” she asks.
“It’s nine thirty, so ya, I’m up.”
“Don’t get up. Stay in bed- for like at least another hour,” she replied.
Yes! They didn’t forget after all! After about an hour of some serious seven year old meltdowns coming from the kitchen because my youngest forgot his Mother’s Day gift in school, they arrived “punctually” with cold scrambled eggs, toast, cheese, and coffee. It was without a doubt, the best cold eggs I have ever eaten in thirteen years of being a mommy. They even got me a card that sang “You’re unbelievable” and a beautiful frame with a picture of me and my kids highlighting my importance in a perfect Hallmark-like poem. Thirteen years and still going strong…...this year, I most certainly did not take Mother’s day for granted. And as was our tradition, my 13 year old finished my eggs, my middle daughter couldn’t stop kissing me, and my 7 year old son stormed out in tears over some hysterical meltdown. It was perfect.
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