It’s not about the gift, it’s the little hands that made it.

I love how on Mother’s Day my husband lets me sleep in. (Hell, who am I kidding, he lets me sleep in most weekends) I love how my children have spent some of their school week making me something that I will cherish forever. Nothing says Happy Mother’s Day like a foam flower cut out and glued in a pot by my five year old, or like the flower pot hand painted by my nine year old.

These gifts are precious to me. While I did appreciate the two dozen roses that my husband sent to me and the box of candy that went with it, eventually the flowers will wilt and the candy will have long been shared away with my chocolate loving children.
I will always be able to go back to the gifts my boys made for me in school and remember what they looked like at the age of five presenting me with that foam flower. How Wyatt was so proud of what he had made, smiling at me as I unwrapped his prize for me. How he handed me a homemade card that he took so much care to color so neatly in the lines, and to write his name so perfectly. I will always remember that at the age of 9 Peyton was still excited to have made something for his mother that he hid it from me in his book bag until I woke Mother’s Day morning. He ran to retrieve it from his bag as soon as I walked out of my bedroom. He beamed at me as I admired my new hand painted flower pot. ( I will always remember that even though he is about to be ten, he will always be my baby.) I will remember how Rhett might be a little too young to make something for me for Mother’s Day, but with every smile and audible, “MUAH” kiss I knew it was his way of telling me he loves me.

I think every Mother’s Day of how many Mother’s Day came with me as a child trying my best to make my mother have the best day of the year, only to end up in tears by the time night had fallen. I will always remind myself how there is nothing in this world that I need on Mother’s Day more than the love my children show me on a daily basis. If it weren’t for them I wouldn’t be a mother. They make me who I am. To me nothing says I love you Mom like a hug around the neck and a kiss on the cheek. The flower pots are a bonus!

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