the fixer of boo-boo's(no matter how small they may be.) {5.13.12}

her screams pierce through the air and the mother comes running, dropping all that she's doing
“baby, what happened?!”
“mommy! i-i cuts myself!” the little girl screams as she points to her small knee and the mother notes the little scrape that is an angry shade of red.
"one second, baby. i'll fix it." the mothers soothing words seem to stop the screams, and she hoists the small toddler on her hip. despite how tired she is, despite the bags under her eyes and the soreness of her arm from carrying the girls little brother around all day, she doesn't complain.
that's who we're celebrating today.
mothers.
they fix the boo-boo's, and listen to the teenage heartbreak, they pray, parent, ground, spank, weep, and rejoice.
happy mothers day, moms.

5.8.11 A Virtual Celebration

“Honey, come help me,” Mrs. Blake called as she fiddled with the webcam. “David’s gonna call and I can’t get this working.”
Her husband smiled and flicked the switch. “All set,” he said.
A few moments later the computer was ringing.
“Hi, mom!” A cheery young man in military camouflage called through the microphone.
“How’re you doing, hon?” She was desperate to know.
“I’ll tell you over lunch.”
“But you’re a million miles away.”
David winked.
Mr. Blake set down a plate in front of his wife as David pulled a tray into view.
“Happy mother’s day, Mom!” he beamed.

5.8.11 resplendent - a drabble of 100 words

She sat, chewing the end of her pen cap, racking her brain for the right words to say. She kept bringing the pen down to the paper, just barely touching it, about to start writing, when the cliché sensor in her head would start clanging. “You can’t write that in your Mother’s Day card! That is Hallmark schmaltz!”

She sighed. “I think all the clichés must be true,” she muttered to no one.

Down went the pen once more but this time it kept writing.

Dear Mom,

Thank you for everything. For the sacrifices and the prayers.

I love you.

Mother's Day (5.8.11)

I’m in a room, a white room, waiting. For nine months I’ve been waiting. Waiting for the moment when I can hold my warm little bundle in my arms. I hear the clock chiming midnight.

Good morning world. Happy May 8!

A new wave of pain hits me and I cry out. I hear a voice counting to ten and then the cry of a newborn baby. My baby. The doctor places the crying babe in my arms. Beside the bed my husband is crying and laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s Mother’s Day! Our baby was born on Mother’s Day!”