It's true. Everything changes once you become a mother. The shift in perspective is inescapable. For me that means the cringing has just begun. The glorious, abhorring, heartwarming, frightening confusion that is motherhood is a gift and a curse: nothing is more wondrous than watching your child grow; nothing is more appalling than reflecting on your childhood behavior through the lens of a mother. Upon becoming a parent, one learns how truly deficient language is. How could we not have a single, graceful word that conveys thank you and I'm sorry at once?I could thank my mother for many things from her strength to her talents, but in the spirit of this blog, thank you, Mother, for your gifts among many in the kitchen and garden:
Thank you for talking to plants.
Thank you for making my baby food.
Thank you for hot breakfasts every morning.
Thank you for homemade dinners every night.
Thank you for lavender lemonade, even though none of us drank it.
Thank you for baking with us.
Thank you for having a garden, even though we couldn't have cared less.
Thank you for cooking real food.
Thank you for lemon basil in our salad, even though we thought it tasted like Pledge.
Thank you for making us all eat the same dinner.
Thank you for drinking really good wine.
Thank you for your french toast.
Thank you for pasta puttanesca. Really. Thank you.
Thank you for finding recipes you have to try.
Thank you for making dinner an event.
Thank you for putting strange things in your mouth, even if it's the occasional discarded olive pit.
Thank you for multiple meats.
Thank you for your unabashed love for flowers. We always had the prettiest yard on the block.
Thank you for showing us the value of the gourmet restaurant and the dive.
Thank you for drinking beer. I know that probably doesn't sound good, but I appreciate it.
Thank you for saying hello to the birds on the porch every morning in spring.
Thank you for making our kitchen island the most exciting place in the universe.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you.