Mom's Day

You already know that this little person we're raising means more to me than the sun.  And, I guess I could say something to the effect of how motherhood has been the greatest challenge/discovery/journey/[insert another cliche here] of my life.  And how, thank goodness, I had a day filled with pampering, gifts, brunch, etc.....
But I think I'm going to write about something just slightly to the side of all that---

I was sitting on the couch the other day, watching Violet draw the letter V over and over and over again on this piece of paper, and then she starts doing O after O after O, huge circles that span the entire diameter of the page.  And I started to feel incredibly grateful.
Giving credit where credit is due, I do think mother's day is an important day for everyone to stop and reflect on all the great things our mommies have done for us---
--but I also want to take this chance to tell Violet what she has done for me:


Violet,
Thank you for making sure that every pocket of every coat I own is always filled with your special findings.  I reach in, scrounging for meter change, and pull out dried dandelion fluff.

Thank you for keeping my 15 year old cat active and on his toes, and for throwing a party every time you hear him purr.  Thank you for not thinking it's weird when all I make for your dinner is a scrambled egg and peas, because it's been one hell of a day.  Thank you for challenging me to make up 80 songs a day about birds, dogs, toilets, wooden spoons, elephants, and cat food.  I would never think twice about the chickens on Densmore and 35th Ave. N, if it weren't for you.
Thank you for making something as simple as a walk around the block alone with my husband feel like a honeymoon again.  Thank you for giving me the motivation and urgency in my free moments to actually focus on what I want to happen with my artwork and career.  Thank you for bringing Greek Yogurt into my life.  I love it when you kiss me through the window glass when I leave to go to a meeting, and when you suddenly feel as though it is imperative that you count the buttons on my sweater.
Thank you, sweet child, for taking this life of mine out of the dredge of adulthood, and bringing me to a space where pencils, books, the garlic press and cheese grater get lined up in a parade every day; everything I thought I knew about my house, my belongings, my world, gets a bright new chance to be something else as you line them up and down our living room rug.
Mommyhood is a boisterous festivity; a great revelry set to the music of Danny Kaye.  My little elf, you are loved much.