Mother's Day Musings

Yesterday was Mother's Day here in the U.S. I was lucky enough to spend it with the spouse, my two sons (aka the offspring) #2's wife and #1's fiancee, (aka the crazy ladies willing to put up with my offspring) and for at least part of the day with my two granddaughters (aka the grandspawns). Also with ffspring #5, wh isn't really mine but comes over on Sundays to watch Game of Thrones. The youngest of this generation is 25. Keep that in mind.

Spouse makes me French toast and bacon and brings it upstairs. No tray. Balancing a plate with syrup on your lap is tricky, but he's a wonderful cook and it was a very sweet gesture. Brunch devoured in to time flat. Nice start to the day. I shower, go downstairs and find yellow tulips in a vase by my comfy chair. More bonus points. A bit later he brings me a grilled cheese and a bottle of real Diet Coke. This is a treat, as with a horde of 20-somethings in and out of the house we usually buy generic. While I'm eating, Son #2, who lives here with wife and kids carries younger granddaughter past me. This is a mistatke. When Smallest Spawn (aka Squidlet) sees Gah! for the first time in a day, she demands her minutes of tribute. He puts her down in the playroom, but she makes a beeline for me, climbs up on the footstool by my feet, climbs into my lap, says very loudly, "Mine," plants smacking kiss on my nose, then clambers down and on her merry way. I am of the opinion that this was yet another Mother's DayTreat. I love that my grandspawns are part of my everyday life, and that I am part of theirs. She can claim me as hers any time she likes.

Spouse mumbles that my present is currently somewhere in Ohio accoring to his track shipping app. I am not surprised. Pretty much anything involving the state of Ohio has had it in for me since childhood. There is not enough alcohol in this town to make me explain that.

Right before dinner Elder spawn, (aka Squirrel) age almost 7, returns from a rough weekend at her birthmom's. She's not happy, but we cut her some slack, let her have some strawberry cake with strawberry-elderflower sauce after her steak and risotto, so she is pleased and goes to bed without meltdowns. A good day indeed.

I have lovely gifts from my kids--a hanging plants for my porch, a new handbag, and a few small odds and ends both sweet and thoughtful. I spend some time talking wedding plans and such, and spoke to my mother-in-law 2000 miles away who adored the elf-point ear wraps we sent. Not content to wait until the fantasy-themed wedding in September, she had to let us know she'd worn them to chruch today and gotten many compliments. I love my big, weird clan.

Of course days like this always bring back the harder memories too. My own mom has been gone for 14 years. I miss her down-to-earth practicality and our shared love of romance novels. She'd been gone just a year when I was first published, and I always wished she could have been there to revel in it with me. I can picture her, white curly perm, deep brown eyes and wicked smirk, playing cards and telling me she doesn't much care for my woo-woo (paranormal) books but my westerns aren't too bad.

Mothers, in romance novels, are very often absent. In the early years of the genre, I think the missing mums made the characters more vulnerable and more into the idea that they had to find the perfect alpha male (often the doctor to the nurse, or the tycoon to the secretary) to take care of the poor girl. I'm glad times have changed in that respect, Me, I write it story by story. If the mother's presence or absence is point plot, there you go. Otherwise? I'm just making it up as I go along.

Hug a mom today if you missed yesterday, or even if you didn't. Or a foster mom, a step-mom, a dad doing double duty as both mom and dad, a female mentor helping as a mom-lke figure, a big sister, an aunt, a mom whose kids are furry, feathered or scaled, or anyone, really, who's willing to go the distance and make a difference in someone's life.  Happy Monday!