I was raised by the greatest of mothers.
She believed in me when no one else did.
She always told me I could, even when I thought I couldn’t.
She encouraged us and lifted us up and let us write on the floor and walk into the house with muddy shoes and build marble machines in the living room and decorate our own bedrooms and live and design and create until the walls of the house shook with laughter.
I never knew what a hard job it is being a mother.
I never truly appreciated the amazing essence of all she is and was.
I never understood all she sacrificed for us to help shape us into the people we are today.
Until I became a mother.
To celebrate her and all the incredible mothers on this planet we live on….
…here is the story of my favorite mother’s day present (and a few last minute gift ideas, too).
When you are a parent you do a lot of talking.
You talk about being nice and waiting your turn and making good choices and respecting each other and speaking in an inside voice and trying your hardest….
….and keeping your promises.
There are a lot of variations on the same theme.
And in the middle of all that conversation and advice and discussion and pontification, sometimes you sigh and wonder if anyone is listening.
This Mother’s Day my son gave me a gift that let me know…
….he had heard (almost) every word.
You see he gave me a book.
Not just any book.
A book compiled of all the love stories I had ever written on Thistlewood Farm.
All 13 of them.
He took the posts and put them in chronological order and had them bound into a hardcover volume.
And then he wrote an introduction that went a little like this:
“These are the stories of a real-life true love.
But what good story isn’t?
You see, KariAnne Wood, the writer of Thistlewood Farm, is my mother.
And, of course, she’s a great storyteller just like her father.
So today, I’m sharing with her (and the world) her love story (as told with gusto by her).
Happy Mother’s Day Mom.
And when he handed me the book….
…I didn’t say anything.
I just stared at my simple stories written down in a book with real numbered pages with every last exclamation point and ellipse in place.
And I then I started crying.
Not cute crying like in the movies. Real, honest not-cute crying that comes from a place somewhere deep in your heart. I cried and stared and the book and cried some more.
And I hugged him.
And cried until my eyes were red and puffy.
And hugged him again.
Then I opened up the book and began to read.
There it was every chapter of a real-life love story.
It started at the beginning.
And continued with our first date.
And the first time I really tried to cook.
And the first dance from our wedding.
And the first time I saw him when he arrived home from his deployment.
And on and on and on.
Every page put together and printed by that wonderful, incredible, generous son of mine.
I had written enough for a book….
…and never even knew it.
I closed the pages and smiled at him.
When did he grow up so fast?
When did he become a teenager?
When did he get so wise?
All those years of all that conversation.
And as I hugged the book and stared up at him with a thank-you in my tear-filled eyes….
….I realized he had been paying attention all along. 🙂
PS Looking for a few last-minute handmade gift ideas for Mother’s Day?
What about this one?
Or this one.
Or I think my favorite of all….this one.
Happy Mother’s Day friend. 🙂
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