Mother’s Day 2020—COVID-style

Well, obviously this post is now way overdue.

This Mother’s Day was strange, not only because of the continued SIP orders from our state, but also because I didn’t have that pit in my stomach that I usually have in the days leading up to it. A few days before that I started getting these weird moments of…wanting to cry, or something. I chalked it up to the fact that we were approaching a holiday that has historically been a tough one for me.

I had explained to Olivia a few days prior about the concept of breakfast in bed as I grew up making that for my mom along with my sisters. She.was.stoked. But I had to go and ruin it that Sunday and get out of bed before either of them could start. With Emelia keeping me from sleeping most nights, I take any opportunity to sleep in. But that morning, Olivia woke us up at seven, and Chris got up with her, so I could sleep. But of course, I felt wide awake and ended up getting up a few minutes later. I promised she could make me breakfast in bed next weekend.

And then church. We’ve been watching online since SIP and it’s actually caused us to make it more of a priority. I turned to Chris as the message was going (blessedly, they hardly talked about the significance of the day) and said this was the first church service I attended on Mother’s Day in…nine years? Progress I tell you.

Afterward, Olivia dragged Chris upstairs to make me a card and I hung out reading a book alone (!!!) for about half an hour since the baby was put down for a nap.

“Don’t come up, Mama!” she’d call every so often. Turns out, I got two Mother’s Day drawings and Chris’s legit makes me snort-laugh since it looks like it came from a 12-year-old boy child.

I especially appreciate the fact that he signed his name like he does when he signs cards to his parents who raised him for 18 years: Chris. Not Love, Chris, but Chris. This is what 16 years of being together gets you.

Olivia has been all into writing her own letters lately, and she was so excited to hand me her own card. She had carefully written out “Happy Mother’s Day,” each letter copied down as Chris said them to her. And even now, it makes me tear up, the care she put into it. I hugged her, swallowing back a lump. Chris told me later that initially she was drawing “a monster” and then turned it into a picture of her mom. So make of that how you will.

Considering her preschool was canceled and I’ve done a shit job of homeschooling her, it’s not half bad.

They went upstairs to clean up and start lunch and I walked to my office down the hall to put it away. As soon as I walked into the room I lost it. I stood there, next to my desk and sobbed quietly into my hands. I don’t even know why. And honestly, for Mother’s Day, I thought I was doing really well. Year after year I never really can pinpoint why I’m crying. I guess I just have to chalk it up to lingering grief. Whatever it is, I always feel better afterward.

I had actually told Chris what I wanted for Mother’s Day this year was a bead for my Pandora necklace with Emelia’s birthstone. He said he knew I wanted that and had already been looking but didn’t like any of the beads they were offering. He wanted to go to the jewelers where he purchased the necklace, along with Olivia and Adam’s stones, and look through their extensive catalog.

My mom came over in the afternoon to sit and talk with us from her car. It was weird, missing the usual photo together and giving her a hug. I had a card, but her gift was on a massive shipping delay with no arrival in sight. My sisters and I had gone in on flowers and a Barnes and Noble gift card at least.

Of course, Emelia needed to nap during that time, so she’s missing from the photo. This pandemic has taught me to roll with the punches that everything I was comfortable with in my life is now upended. I couldn’t even get a decent photo of everyone.

Since the failed breakfast in bed debacle, Chris suggested he and Olivia make the dinner of taco salad and Olivia told me to “go read in bed, Mama!” So I did. She placed a painting near my pillow and supplied me with one of her stuffed animals for company. Also, I needed all the lights on in the room. It wasn’t until right before dinner that we had to break the news to her that Mama isn’t going to be served tacos in bed (though she could be onto something right there.)

Last weekend, Olivia got to fulfill her four-year-old dream of serving me breakfast on a platter. We had a countdown all week which sort of made me feel like a big fat jerk for getting up early Sunday morning and forgoing this originally on Mother’s Day. She came in with Chris, holding the tray herself.

But in true Olivia fashion, Mama’s breakfast in bed couldn’t be complete without, you know, eating in bed with me too. Honestly, I think that was her plan all along and really was just a ploy to eat in bed since she added, “Can I eat in my bed?” No, kid.

Also, I’m not above posting a photo of me literally waking and sitting up in bed to the internet. See the hack job I did on myself? My hairdresser is going to be horrified when I can see her again.

I was honestly wondering how I would about Mother’s Day in quarantine. It was easy to get caught up in the fact that this could just be another normal day for us. I’m glad it wasn’t.

Past Mother’s Day posts

2019

2018

2017

2016

2015

2013