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Destinations, Dreams and Dogs - International adventure with a fast-track family (& dogs) of Old World values, adopting the Russian-Italian-American good life on the go…!

Mother’s Day Amok

My eye is starting to twitch a little. No, I am not winking at you. It’s called nerves. Mother’s Day is upon us and in my family, it tends to run amok.

I’ve only passed a few of these holidays, myself. After having avoided the subject of motherhood for a great while, once I became a mother, I experienced no little amount of conflict.

You see, I feel a distinct connection with my single and married-with-no-children friends. For some of them, Mother’s Day can be a real downer if they always wanted kids.

But my problems are closer to home. My own mother is in heaven, my mother-in-law is far away. It focuses most of the attention on me. Or at least the chocolatiers and florists have me thinking it should.

“Are we doing anything for Mother’s Day?” I inquire tentatively, not wanting to have any Great Expectations which ostensibly would never be realized.

“Mother’s Day?” parrots Benedetto. “Are you my mother?”

This was not the intended response. My own children, Petya and Pasha, are naturally oblivious to such a holiday, being boys. Anything that the children’s TV channels do not promote heavily…. Add to that their abundant weekly allowances, and I can only imagine what a buck might bring me.

Sigh. Another perfectly fine opportunity lost for designer duds and diamonds.

Last year, there was severe weather in our part of the world. Our plans included flying in our private plane to the next Important Destination. At the last minute, that was scrapped, when we grabbed a rental car and high-tailed it to the meeting on clogged highways full of Sunday drivers intent on a leisurely brunch. Starving, and with no time to spare on the trip, my big Mother’s Day dinner was a hot dog from a convenience shop. Gas ‘n’ Go, that’s my gig. Though I wasn’t expecting anything in particular, it still added insult to injury.

Maybe he had forgotten the sins of the past. Can’t let that happen.

“Will I be having a hot dog for Mother’s Day?” I probe, glancing at him sideways.

“No, no need for that. We’re having hot dogs today!” Kosher, carb-free, who could ask for anything more?

So I took matters into my own hands this year. You can see what drove me to such depths. I finally decided to treat myself well, something that most moms consider to be a nice idea, but many of us can’t even go to the bathroom without someone knocking on the door and needing our immediate attention. Out I went, bought myself a cute card with four puppies on the front, representing what will be our four children. Perfect.

And one red rose, fragrant, lush, beautiful, wanting nothing in return.

These are my Mother’s Day insurance policies. No matter what happens come Sunday, I’ll be happy and content in myself. I am a mother, a good one. I love my children and my husband and am blessed beyond measure.

But sometimes, on days like these, I remind myself: I am more than a label. I am a mother… and so much more. And that’s something that I can celebrate every day.


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