Take Mothers Day, for instance. I accepted and enjoyed my family’s paltry smattering of gifts, casting aside any trace of petulance by reminding myself that I’d been insistent that all I wanted was a day without bickering. And maybe a pedicure. So I had no grounds to complain that the champagne, chocolate, coffee, magazine, and cards weren’t enough.
Once everyone had vacated the celebratory bedside, I sighed and thought about how I should ask for more if I want more. There was usually more, though. I guessed that as the kids get older, their offerings would become less special, more hallmark.
I bravely got up to face the day, knowing that there would be flowers on the table and that everyone had to do whatever I wanted to do that day, including the procurement of a much needed pedicure if I so desired.
Imagine my SURPRISE!
Isn't she lovely?! In retrospect, I'd mentioned a few times since Monterey last summer and Austin this spring that I would love to have a bike so we could take idyllic family adventures along the Swedish countryside. Or something. It was dumb that everyone else had a bike, despite my well documented terror of all that road threatening to come up and smash my face in, I really do love being on a bike, and I was thrilled that my husband had pulled this off without my input.
We set out to the countryside for the idyllic adventure.
|perfectly encapsulated emotions on every face.|
|ME: It's mothers day, I command you to smile.|
We went to places I'd never been, we got some exercise, we saw someone snorkeling in a truly disgusting spot, and nobody got hurt (too badly) or mad (criminally) or bored (under threat of manual labor). After our ride, we headed back to the trusty Westy, who had made a nice new friend back at the beach lot
|I love O.B.|