It's all about ME

That's what I love about Mother's Day. I can totally get away with anything I want for one day of the year, and man do I milk it. In fact, I can stretch it into three days if I play my cards right.... Sat evening: "Man I'm sure tired and this kitchen is a mess. Wouldn't it be nice for me to wake up to a clean kitchen on Mother's Day?" (giggling as I head off to my bedroom with a bowl of ice cream).

Sunday all bets are off. I don't have to fix food unless I feel like it. If I do and they don't like it they can't say anything about it. I don't have to carry my cart load of nursery stuff because after all, "Don't you love me?" No bargaining for a nap, I get to hold the remote, and if I want two bowls of ice cream really, who's gonna argue?

But let me tell you, all manipulation is out the window when that phone rings and you finally hear your missionary's voice again. It's the best in the whole world. You spend the next hour being reminded why it is you do what you do. Seeing (or hearing, as the case may be) how much your young man has grown, how his testimony is blossoming, how he loves the people and is starting to dread each day that brings his time as a missionary closer to an end, is the best gift a mom could ask for.

All those days of teething, tantrums, driving to and from whatever sporting event was in season, patching dry-wall from teen years of frustration, and even those early morning seminary fights were all worth it for those sixty minutes. Life doesn't get much better than that.

You know, don't worry about it kids I'll do the dishes tonight. Really, I don't mind.