I am now a lady who lunches!
But first, it was off to the tennis courts to hit with my regular group of gals after dropping the kids off at school. P.S. None of us wear tennis bracelets or tennis whites. Just look at how my friend Paige dresses for the courts.
(It’s no wonder we haven’t been asked to join a league.)
After kicking her butt, it was time to get my Mom’s out of bed for a little shopping, followed by lunch.
It’s day three of her visit.
“Mom, time to get up!”
It was already 9:30 am. In between time, I’d already gotten the girls off to school, complete with a bacon and egg breakfast and packed lunches in hand. Before that, I’d washed the dog after he rolled in garden compost and emerged smelling like an elephant. (He only weighs 20 pounds.)
PHOTO: This is how badly he smelled.
“Come on Mom! We have a big day ahead. Your breakfast is on the table, but I’m going to pack it so we can get a move on.”
We were on our way to Westport, Ct. to do a little furniture shopping followed by lunch. Terrain looked like a great choice. My Mom was a hot shot realtor/interior decorator back in her day, raising three kids completely on her own for a while there. She was a great role model for me now that I am raising two kids completely on my own.
No one ever really seems to say thanks Mom, even on Mother’s Day, but I am here to say, thanks Mom. I know how hard you worked and how much you love us.
As I watched her sleeping, I decided to let her be, knowing she probably needed the rest. I’d save the bugle blowing for my kids on Saturday morning.
About 30 minutes later, she emerged from the guest room, sleepy eyed and smiling when I handed her coffee and sat her down to a big, beautiful breakfast. I decided not to pack it and just let her sit and enjoy.
It took another 1:30 for her to get ready, which would normally make me go insane, but I decided to relax. Just because I can shower, throw on a little make up and get dressed and out the door in 15 minutes flat doesn’t mean she has the same gene. I am lucky to have my Mom here in the first place, so why add stress to a perfect day?
We chatted aimlessly during the drive, even singing along to the car radio as the sunshiny day lifted our spirits even more. I expertly steered off a few subjects, not wanting to discuss anything upsetting.
At lunch, which was beautiful by the way, she brought it up again.
“Mom, let’s not talk about that,” I said.
She wanted to talk, in part, about my late husband.
PHOTO: Say hi to Mark!
It’s not that he is an off-limits conversation or that it upsets me to talk about him. In fact, I like talking about him, but not in relation to where this conversation was heading.
I know she loves me and means well, but I don’t want to hear about it. I enjoy my career. My kids are doing really well in school and are happy, healthy and respectful young ladies who fill my life with purpose and actual joy. My house and yard get cuter every week as I continue to channel my husband’s tools and try my best to transform our house into a home. I have a ton of friends and yes, I do date. Bases covered.
In fact, we’d been invited out to dinner that night, but I had declined.
My Mom looked hurt when I offered that as proof that I was not sitting home knitting elephant booties on Friday nights.
“What am I? Chopped liver?” she asked.
She had a point.
So guess what happened next?
I took my Mom on the date!
Before anyone shrieks in horror: She did what?!?!?
It was fine!
We’d gone from shopping for outdoor furniture, to a five star lunch, to a gorgeous outdoor sunset seafood dinner on the Hudson River waterfront all in the course of five hours.
I could get used to this!
What’s more is perhaps she sees me as more of a single woman now, not just her widowed daughter.
“A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.”
― Washington Irving