Mother's Day

At church on Sunday, Brother Miles asked me if I was one of those women who likes Mother's Day or hates it.

"I love it!" I said.  (Because I do.)

"You don't feel guilty?"

"No," I said, "Why should I feel guilty?  I am a great mother.  I mean, you've met my kids."

"That's true," he said.

(Brother Miles is one of those people that you can be kind of sassy to like that.)

I've never understood why mothers feel guilty on Mother's Day.  Because you're not a perfect mother?  No one is.  To me that's like not liking your birthday and feeling guilty because you're not a perfect human.  Just celebrate!

I like Mother's Day because after church when my boys asked me when was dinner and what was for dinner and they were circling me like vultures, I told them it was Mother's Day and so dinner was entirely up to them.  "Let me know when it's ready," I said.

I, of course, wouldn't have really left it in their hands because I wanted to eat, after all.  Those chocolates they gave us at church only have so much sustaining power.  Adam led the charge for the creation of a wonderful steak dinner.

One of my favorite parts of Mother's Day this year was the gift Stella sent me, from one Mama Bear to another.

This came in the mail along with a picture.

Meet Clementine:

When Emma got home from work and I showed her, she said, "I have a sister!"

And she is adorable.

Another highlight of the day also included bears.  At my request, we read Winnie the Pooh aloud.  Some even wore costumes for the occasion.

I love Winnie the Pooh read aloud and I love that our kids love Winnie the Pooh too.  We were all laughing and I thought, this is where it's at.

Right here.

Nowhere I'd rather be.