On Not Sitting Down at the Table (a belated Mother's Day Tribute)

My mom is always the last one to the table. She is grabbing the last batch of toast at breakfast or tossing the salad at dinner or grabbing the salt and pepper, while my dad says "Terry, sit down". Barb sometimes eats standing up at the counter. I think I finally understand that this is because moms routinely get up from the table some dozens of times during any meal, and perhaps it's easier to just stay up. I am happy to get Clio water with ice and a straw and serve seconds and replace a fallen spoon, but I also want to sit and enjoy my own dinner and take a load off for a few minutes. So I bargain with Clio when I could just get up and get it done already. I don't know if it's habit or love or the path of least resistance, but my mother and mother-in-law don't complain, they don't heave a sigh or say in a minute, and they certainly don't say get it yourself; instead, they have always provided just what you need before you knew you needed it. And because it is now my job to do this, I see how seamless they make it, and for this I say thank you.

And some day, if I learn to do it right, my girls will not notice all that I do for them. Until they are moms too, and appreciate everything that that means.


And now, sit down, Mom.

I love you.