The morning is quiet, as usual. I come down the stairs and head straight towards my prayer altar. I close my eyes, fold my hands and say thanks for the day that was and am about to ask for blessings for the day that is when my prayer is interrupted.
“Mom, today is my field trip, don’t forget to remind me to take my lunch. Do you know that we are going for Science class. And all the kids are coming. I am so excited. I need breakfast. I am going to get cereal, you want some?” Meet Child 1. We became parents when he showed up twelve years ago. He came as a surprise after doctors told me that I had a spilt uterus and could never get pregnant (a misdiagnosis).
He is almost as tall as I am but, as of yet, does not cringe when I reach over and brush his soft hair with my fingers and kiss his forehead.
I am about to talk about lunch when we are interrupted again.
“Mama, mama, I had a dream last night and you and daddy were in it. Mama, are you listening? Where is my milk? Mama, I want milk.” Meet Child 2. He is five going on fifteen. When he was born, our parental status turned to staff.
He runs up and gives me a kiss and then whispers in my ear, “How is your tummy? Does it still hurt? Let me give it a kiss.”
Before I can respond to anything, they are gone in to the living room and a frenzied discussion erupts about American Idol. Then, the fight begins, their favorite is out and they cannot decide on a new favorite. They disagree with their father on this choice. They try to wrestle each other to see who wins and the winner decides who the family will vote for. Dad and the twelve year old try to wrestle the little one. But, oh, he is good. He lets out one cry and escapes with a naughty glint in his eyes. “Mama can pick. Mama, you pick,” the boys say to me.
I stand and watch and smile…
This is what I want for Mother’s Day. This is what I want for the rest of my life: to have my prayers interrupted so I know exactly what I am grateful for….every waking moment of my life.