Happy Mother’s Day – Sunday Six Style.

Happy Mother’s Day – Sunday Six Style.

1. It’s Mother’s Day. One little Sunday that tugs on my heartstrings a little more than it used to. One little Sunday that means so much more when you’re on the receiving end — when you’re a mother, with a daughter. It’s a day that gets me all weepy-eyed about my own mother, and what an amazing relationship we have, and how fortunate I am to have stumbled my way into the world with her beside me.

2. We all went out for Mother’s Day brunch: me, The Toddler, my husband, my mom and my dad, and we stuffed ourselves silly at The West End Inn in Hamburg. If you’re a local, I’d suggest checking out their brunch if you’re ever in the Southtowns on a Sunday. It’s a yummy treat and for $10 – a steal. But, the best part about the brunch was my little girl. Hands down, the most well-behaved two-year-old in the house. I was so proud of her. She, with her adorable pigtails and her perfect behavior were, without question, the Best Mother’s Day Gift Ever. Just the thought that maybe, just maybe, my husband and I aren’t doing such a bad job with raising her after all surely will get me through the next month, easy.

3. For Mother’s Day I allowed myself the time to finish The Last Treasure, by Janet S. Anderson. How I’d avoided the book until now is beyond me. But I’m glad I’d finally picked it up. Before today I’d only had about 75 pages left to read — but for me unless I’m sick in bed, getting through just five pages can be tough because my crying child-barfing cat-needy clients-busy husband-life rarely allows me enough time to breathe. So today was the day. Now if we could only have a Mother’s Day once every month, I’d be much more well read than I am at the moment.

4. The thing about The Last Treasure is that it feels like home. Not only does Janet S. Anderson write in a style that feels so familiar I can almost touch it, but the story feels that way too. It’s about a family as old as this country, as mine is. And a family that consists of birth-right Quakers, as I am. She talks about the Light and of the Silence and how the weight of history can form who you become — and it all feels like home. Like a big, long sigh that wraps you up from the inside out. I’m not sure if I’m the only one who this happens to, but when words work perfectly together like that — when you can actually feel them, it sends an army of teeny spiders crawling up my arms.

5. In other Happy Mother’s Day news, during a long, hot bath earlier this evening, the guts of my next book came traipsing through my head. The sequel to The Secret Island Adventurers Club fleshed itself out like one of those rapid-motion videos of a rose blossoming. Not sure why, but most of my epiphanies hit during baths, or showers, or while staring out of the car window at rain. All times when it’s extremely inconveinent to whip out a pen and a notebook. It could be the water that brings the epiphanies on — but I’m guessing it has more to do with Some Fruits of Solitude. (You can quote William Penn on that one — another Quaker.)

6. I know I promised a post on the virtues of writer’s groups this past week — and it never transpired. I swear, I had every intention of writing that post. Really. And, I swear, it WILL appear on this blog this week. Really. I promise. Cross my heart.

Until then …

Advertisement