*warning* sappy, mushy post ahead
Coming down from the Mother's Day weekend high...
the gift that keeps on giving all summer long.
First campfire of the summer...
complete with hotdogs, s'mores,
an ice cold one,
and sticky fingers.
A beautiful, picture-perfect, not-a-cloud-in-the-sky Mother's Day morning run, and me contemplating how truly lucky I am.
Mother's Day isn't about the gifts for me. I've already received my gifts, in the form of these precious, wonderful, sometimes-I-want-to-pull-my-hair-out little people.
They didn't choose me to be their mom, but I am lucky enough to get to be their mama.
I don't need breakfast in bed, or flowers, or expensive jewelry. I'll take a handmade card over a Hallmark one any day...especially if it has chocolate so carefully taped to it.
My gifts come in the form of hugs and kisses and dandelion bouquets all year long.
Yes, mothers should be celebrated, because sometimes it is the hardest.job.ever.
But children should be celebrated too. They made me their mama; one forever in my heart and four in my arms. Everything happens for a reason, and if it weren't for the one in my heart, I most likely wouldn't have this little beauty in my arms.
Of course, my own mamas need to be celebrated too. One gave birth to me in her womb, the other in her heart. I wrote a tribute to them last Mother's Day. (You can read that here).
Mother's Day is special, but my children are even more special.
I'll take moments like these over gifts any day.
Thanks for making me your mama.