There was this note:
No toothpaste in the sink. No one complaining that he got hit or punched or got his toy stolen by that rat brother of his. No little shoes to trip over in the back hall. No piles of laundry or sporting equipment or dirty diapers. No little voices telling me I'm the best, even though I'm not. No grubby hands slipped into mine while we snuggle in the monster bed. No pages filled with scribbles of witty, clever things these amazing creatures have said that I just had to write down so I'd never forget. Never forget. Yeah, those days were simpler, but these days are so much sweeter.
So, happy Mother's Day to all of us who adore their children, even though we sometimes get why some animals eat their young. Happy Mother's Day to everyone who occasionally longs for those days before children when the biggest worry was which drycleaner to use, but who would actually never trade these crazy days for anything. Nothing. Happy Mother's Day to the mothers who birthed us, nurtured us, let us drive them nuts but still gave nearly everything of themselves so we could be good people when we grew up. Who spent countless hours, like we do now, on their knees praying for healing, peace, direction, a Godly spouse, grandbabies, brokeness, wholeness, and who have cried, as we have, countless times when they've been exhausted or elated or just quiet, watching a baby sleep. And especially to our Nana who dropped everything to take Tess to Grandfriends day this week when I got it wrong and she was in danger of having to miss the whole thing because she was Grandfriendless. You are the best. This day is the best.