I don't want to remember the two boxes of tissues Lilli's leaky nose went through. Not the three days without sleep or the three nights of screaming fits that tested both Dave and my patience. I don't want to remember the moment when Lilli dropped to the floor of the store, after showing signs of improvement, regressing back to a sick mess in 3.6 seconds. Or the sprint to the check out line to get her home to hold her down one more time to put saline drops in her nose before the sad and short lived nap.
I want to remember tucking her into bed Sunday night, and in her groggiest stuffy nosed voice, Lilli saying "Happy Mudders Day, Mommy." I want to remember the long day of frequently interrupted, but much needed, naps where all three of us (4 if you count Taz) snuggled on the floor and couch in the living room. I want to remember the next day when Lilli came into our room, curled up on top of me and told me she loved snuggling with me.
I want to remember that no matter how this one day of the year turns out, it doesn't even begin to equal the love I feel for my child every second of every day. That one day isn't comparable to the appreciation or under appreciation a child has for their mother and all they have done for them on this or any other day (something I don't think I could have appreciated fully until becoming a mother for myself). No matter what wonderful gifts are received on this one day, they won't make any of the other days (and long long nights) any more or less trying slow cookers excluded cause those things rock. The gift of this amazing journey is more than I could have ever ask for from my child (and wonderful husband who tries so hard to make both of us happy all of the time).
Happy Mother's Day.
