Mother's Day

While I was out at the movies yesterday afternoon, Alec and Milo went to a local garden center to buy some flowers for me, which they successfully hid until this morning. Apparently, some other shoppers overheard them talking and became concerned.  A couple approached them and said, “Sir, I’m not sure if you realized it, but Mother’s Day was two weeks ago.”  And so it was, in Spain.  But we elected to celebrate these particular holidays (mother’s and father’s day) on their American dates.  The biggest advantage, apart from the fact that we’ve both had extra time to prepare?  You could walk into any restaurant today without a reservation.

I had made plans with a friend, before I realized it was Mother’s Day, for our families to have brunch together today.  Karen knew about the holiday, and suggested we meet at a local restaurant.  So I slept until 9:30, was feted with flowers and gifts and homemade cards, and then I went to the gym.  Not only did I get a good workout in, but I got out of the whole come-on-hurry-up-we’re-gonna-be-late routine.  I arrived at the restaurant first, right on time, and had a moment to sip a decaf café con leche before anyone else arrived.  The food was good, the children behaved and, although the forecast promised rain, not a cloud appeared in the sky.  The forecast is often wrong in Barcelona, and that usually means that if they say it might rain, or will rain, it doesn’t.  I’m not complaining.

We walked to the park, got some gelato, and spent a restful hour or so throwing the football with Milo and watching the other kids catch snails and play in the mud.

After we got home, we engaged in a half hour, all-family cleanup session—some of us more enthusiastically than others—and then I made cookies with the kids, which they decorated with the dinosaur sprinkles Alec brought back from Montreal.  We called our mothers, and Blanca, read stories, fed the kids, put them to bed.  And now my husband is cooking me dinner.  All in all, life is good.