I’ve said before that I am not a law-enforcer on Mother’s Day. There is just something off about everything being about one person on a day other than birthdays. I whispered in each girl’s ear last night, “Thank you for making this day that let’s me celebrate being the one who gets to be your mom.”

This isn’t some haughty way of saying women who enjoy Mother’s Day have it wrong. I know every minute of every day that we all do it differently. Customs, rules, pet peeves and let-it-slides, we have what works and we bite our tongues when it doesn’t. I guess I just hope that we all find ways (or people) that help us remember that every day has the promise of perfection. The sun doesn’t shine any brighter on one day, each one is ripe with potential for it to be the kind of day from which everlasting memories spring.

We spent yesterday gardening. It was an activity we all participated in, complete with whining, boo-boos and frustration…and that was just Sean and me ;)

What I can say about Mother’s Day is that it gave us unusual license do everything our way. The only “has-to” about the day was that we all be in it together. And we were. It was spectacular. I did inhale their tousled hair a bit longer, I did marvel with more sincerity over how much Sean does in pursuit of that much more joy upon my face and we did end the day without a single regret. For all those things I am grateful, but tonight I am even more grateful for knowing that if I let my heart participate and shut off the rules and must-dos that clamor in my head for attention, there is more than enough perfect to sate my soul.

Special thanks to Grandma for perfectly capturing my claim to Mother’s Day.