Funny, I didn't get breakfast in bed. I ended up making omelets for myself, then for the Mr, when he got home from an early morning attempt at his side-gig, and then for our daughter, when she came over to hang out. I was on my feet for hours, making this slow-rolling breakfast, and after the week I had of trying to throw myself back into normal, pre-cancer levels of activity, I was wiped out. By mid afternoon, I was zoned out in my chair, wondering whether my heart was actually beating. Breathing seemed like such an awful fuss, and I kinda didn't feel like doing it very often. Thank goodness very little was expected of me today, other than getting snookered into making breakfast for everyone on mother's day.
I don't get too wrapped around the axle over mother's day. All I ever asked for when the kids were little was for someone to clean the house for me that weekend. (We didn't know then about spoon theory and how or why I was perpetually out of them.) I felt exposed somehow to go out to mother's day brunch and have wait staff fawn all over us moms. I never expected fancy gifts and I still don't. I'm pretty much satisfied by the kids remembering to say "happy mother's day" somewhat close to this day. That's really enough for me. I hope my own mothers know that I do appreciate them, and that making a big to-do over this day is hard for me.
I was content to take a day of rest, where I could snuggle with my animals (well, except for the teeny lizards and the goldfish in the murky pond), lose myself on YouTube, and then watch the Mother of Dragons, um, well... I live a no spoilers lifestyle, so I'll leave that one to all y'all to watch the show. I hope all the mothers out there had a day that matched their emotional needs as this one did for me.
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