After a hiatus because of Jim’s chemotherapy treatment, we began the day with church where the minister reminded mothers what blessings children are. Not that I need reminding—at least not this week when all three of mine are in my good graces, and the problems that come with raising children are long behind me—though not entirely forgotten.
Then on to brunch at Windyke with three beautiful little girls in linen dresses, Mary Janes and hair bows, one grandson, now old enough to be pleasant dinner company and tall enough to qualify as an adult, two daughters, one son-in-law and one handsome husband who even wore a suit for the occasion. The rest of the family was accounted for and excused: Cade and Corbin were at a soccer tournament, Nicole, Chebon and their boys were here last weekend to celebrate birthdays.
The rainy day begged for an afternoon nap, so I curled up in my favorite shabby green chair, with my fat, four-legged, furry son on my lap, and caught up on “All My Children” (so appropriate for Mother’s Day). Soon the cat and I were fast asleep.
If you’ve never taken a “cat-nap” I can tell you the only thing better is a “baby-nap,” which I had recently with Campbell. You lie down in hopes of getting the baby to sleep; she grows heavy on your chest, mouth slightly open, cheeks flushed. You breathe in the sweet aroma of her baby breath, her heart beating next to yours, and soon you are both transported to sleepy town with Winken, Blinken and Nod.
A cat-nap can’t match a baby-nap but it is the next best thing. The cat, in preparation for sleep, takes his little paws and kneads on your stomach for several minutes not an entirely unpleasant experience unless he hits an ovary.(When I was a little girl our snarly, black cat “Baby” waited for my grandma to sit in her favorite rocker in front of the picture window, and kneaded her plump grandma lap until he slept. I was so envious, but he was a one person cat and not about to perch on a skinny ten-year old who didn’t sit still long enough to make a lap. Alas! I am the grandma now and apparently my stomach now meets cat specifications.) Soon the cat finds a comfy spot, and like the baby, grows warm and heavy. Before long, I’ve synchronized my breathing with his rhythmic purring and we’re gone farther away than Calgon ever takes me. I should hire this cat out; he’s much better than Lunesta.
After two hours, when I intended to use for writing, I wake up in need of something sweet. Surprising since I topped off brunch with chocolate pudding cake and bread pudding with coconut, swearing to never eat so much again. BUT, I discovered the perfect mini-treat. At church the youth group was selling baked goods to finance their trip to Guatemala and I bought these cute little things called “cake-pops.” What a great invention. A little glob of cake, the size of a ping-pong ball, covered with a layer of smooth chocolate icing, sprinkled with multi-colored pareils, impaled with a lollipop stick. Not only are these seemingly innocuous (after-all, they are bite-size), but they are surprisingly doughy—kind of like nearly-done dense cake batter. A perfect mother’s day treat. (Someone find the recipe. Although, I suspect a grandmother has to form and frost all those little balls.)
All in all, it was a nearly perfect Mother’s Day. The only things missing were some sunshine and a mother.
No comments:
Post a Comment