Happy Mudder's Day

I am taking time out today to remember a particular Mother’s day.  It was probably 1990 because we were still living in our house in Saratoga.  Andrea was only 6 years old and Michael was 4 and Em was an infant.  Mark and the children were up, dressed and getting ready for their day of surprises for mom.  Andrea announced in a loud voice that she should make me breakfast in bed because someone in school said that is what their family does.  So Mark went along with it and I reluctantly went back in bed with my clothes on and pulled the covers over myself.  I waited and waited and waited while I heard all sorts of clunking around in the kitchen.  Finally, Mark came down the hall grinning from ear to ear and said “she wants me to get in bed too.”  Mark climbed into bed next to me and leaned on one elbow in my direction.  He said “you are in for a treat,” but the tone of his voice was scaring me.  Andrea came down the hallway with a small shallow box that had my surprise breakfast-in-bed.  Michael and Andrea hopped up on the bed with the anticipation of watching me eat every single bite.  I still remember Mark leaning ever so slightly in my direction with a grin on his face.  The tray had a ‘lovely’ display of peanut butter and jelly toasted sandwich and a drink of milk.  It had a note that said Happy Mother’s Day in Andrea’s backwards letters.  I remember Michael’s nose was running because he kept rubbing it with his hands and then touching my face saying “Happy Mudder’s day mom”.  I picked up the dark brown (burnt) toasted sandwich and it weighed about ½ pound.  There was at least an inch of peanut butter on one slice of bread and a half jar of grape jelly on the other side.  The sandwich was a good inch thick with filling oozing out.  I picked it up and said “this looks wonderful.  Thank you.”  Andrea was beaming with pride.  Mark said “go ahead, eat it!” (chuckling and chuckling).  I took one bite and it was really awful.  I’m sorry Andrea if you are reading this, but it was so thick and burnt and gooey.  I tried not to show my facial expression so as I chewed, I looked in Mark’s direction.  Then I had a great idea.  I said “Andrea and Michael, can you go get me a napkin and a knife so I can share with daddy?”  And off they ran to get me those things.  I quickly tore a huge chunk off the sandwich and tried to give it to Mark.  He refused and said “no way, I saw how she made that!” laughing as I responded something about Father’s day coming up.

I kept the small portion of the sandwich on the plate and put more than ¾ of it under the pillow on Mark’s side of the bed.  When the kids came back with the napkin and knife, I regretfully told them that there was just a small piece left to share with daddy.  I cut the small piece in half and shared with Mark.  Then he opened his mouth and said “Punkeroo, do you know what mommy did with the rest of the sandwich?”  And I hit him… he didn’t give her any more information, he just laughed and laughed.  I wonder how many times we say something we don’t really mean because we don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings.  Is that still considered a lie?  I read somewhere that the average person lies about 20 times a day!!  Whoa!  They say it’s half truths, compliments they don’t mean, and exaggerations about things.  Interesting…