Nobody comprehends what takes place in a mother’s day. But I’m here to tell you, it’s unbelievable — like magic. I remembered this fact after I survived yesterday — a day my husband was out of town.
I woke up at 6 a.m. There wasn’t a minute to lounge in bed because it was time to start breakfast, rouse the kids and get our morning moving. By 6:45, I had cooked eggs and toast, mixed juice and was packing lunches. (This was in between getting nine kids out of bed, reminding one to switch her laundry, putting a Band-Aid on a stubbed leg [how does that happen?] and resolving conflicts over which shirt was “cold-weather” appropriate.) By 6:55, I had sent my first batch of students out the door.
