On Saturday evening I had my traditional Mother’s Day Eve dinner. This year we dined with some close friends, enjoyed delicious food and then stole Grappa dessert wine from another table.
We just sort of noticed that the foursome sitting beside us left quite a bit of wine when they departed the restaurant. And in an effort to honor the sacrifices of our mothers, we could not in good conscience let it go to waste.
Plus, my friend’s husband astutely pointed out that the other patrons hadn’t even touched the dessert wine. And sure, we could have left it for the waiter, who was a dead ringer for a younger, thinner, more metro sexual, less funny Will Arnett (okay, less “dead ringer” and more “faintly resembled him”) but we drank it instead. Maybe it was selfish. But screw it. It was Mother’s Day Eve. Not Will Arnett Look Alike eve.
Which brings me to Mother’s Day.
I slept in (which now apparently means 8:20 am) and then opened adorable, more than perfect gifts from my entire family. Then we spent the afternoon at the beach where I gathered my blessed offspring and forever captured the beauty of the day….
After the beach we drove home and my husband offered me some options….
1. Go to the grocery store
2. Feed and bathe all four children.
I waited patiently for the third option which I could only imagine must be some sort of foot rub, bubble bath, chocolate fountain combination.
But unbelievably, there was no third option.
Mother’s Day sadly was over.
I fed and scrubbed all four. Kissed their sweet, freshly washed cheeks. And thanked the heavens for my amazing, sweet, energetic, messy, creative, funny, beautiful children.
And, of course, expressed my gratitude for free Grappa.