We had a four day weekend for Rosh hashana and I took full advantage. I pulled up to the middle school with the car packed, an Ernest marathon in the DVD player and a bag of healthy-ish snacks and within minutes we were heading south on I-95 toward Delaware. My mom lives with her boyfriend in Bethany Beach. The first two days felt like summer, with temps in the high 80s, warm enough for an ocean swim and afternoon at the beach. Saturday cooled down, so we drove to Assateague to explore on rented bikes and see some of the famous wild horses.
But that's not how she spoils me.
She makes dinner. She won't let me touch a dish. She scoops up laundry before it hits the floor. She loves my kids. She reads them stories and sits on the floor to see what they're drawing or playing on the laptop. She saves magazines she thinks I'll like. She makes me coffee in the morning. She listens to my stories. She cries when I go.
I suppose you could say, she mothers me.
2 comments:
Sounds like my mom!
yes, and yes and yes.
my mom doesn't do any of that stuff: i make the dinner.
but she, more than anyone, even tim, has an eye on me; am i tired? do i need a pedicure (seriously!); i'm worrying too much...
she mother's me, as only one person in our lives can, right?
xo.
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