This day.

Happy Mothers Day.
It's a special day here. My daughter wakes up at the crack of dawwn like it's christmas. She is eager to give me the present she has made at school. She has kept us all out of her room for the last two days. Screaming at anyone who would dare leave her door open, lest I sneak a peak.

I have spent many drives home from school saying...'no I didn't hear that'   in response to them accidentally letting  slip clues while talking ith each other.


And I am ok with this desperate secrecy, although I worry that they are building it up a bit much. Surely there's not much I haven't seen in the way of mothers day gifts so far. I've had the photo in the icypole frame. I've had the worlds greatest mother coffee cup. The handprints with a poem about messy rooms and growing up too quickly.
And I have cried over these gifts every single year for the actual jewels that my children present me. The lessons I see them learning about giving and consideration and love.
But before I get too carried away with remembering my babies crafty achievements from years past, it's the gifts that I am not getting this year that might make me shed a tear.
I haven't heard the teenager make any plans for mothers day. The highschool doesn't run a mothers day shop. She sleeps in past the early 'make a cup of tea for mum in bed hour'. I feel a tugging on the invisible cord between us just a little more. She's growing up.

Strangely this makes my mothers day this year. The best gift a mother can have. Watching your child grow up.

Enjoy it.