motherhood

I have been a mom for almost five years now. I have had my ups and downs but generally enjoy all it has to offer. One afternoon in the fall I was sitting on my bed sorting laundry when I realized that my bedspread was much dirtier than any laundry I was going to do that day. Jake and I have never had a fancy bed set and when I had Tylie, I was grateful for that. A few days after we brought Tylie home from the hospital, I quickly discovered that any bodily fluid that can come out of a baby will eventually end up on your bed. Nothing changed when Mason was born so over the years my comforter has been through many battles. I would wash it often but some of those scars were permanent. Since Mason is almost potty trained and no new babies are in the house, I decided it was time for a new bed set. The day after Thanksgiving came and in all the madness I found a set that I loved. It was beautiful and it was in another lady's hand. She was on the phone trying to decide if she wanted the more neutral color or the more bold one with blue in it. As I sat there praying she was feeling bold, my sisters jumped into action. They convinced her that she would be much happier with blue and thus walked away from my set. Once she was safely out of site, I snatched my set and marched straight to the register. This set was complete with sheets, pillow cases, shams, decorative pillows, bed skirt, and beautiful bed spread. I rushed home to show Jake my treasure and he was less than thrilled. He HATES decorative pillows because he sees them as a blockade to collapsing into bed each night. Lucky for me, though, I have selective hearing so I just blocked him out as I carefully took each piece out of it's packaging. I smoothed the sheets until not a wrinkle was in sight, I tugged each corner of the bed spread until it cascading in all the right places, and I lay the pillows out in different configurations until it looked just perfect. I could picture myself snuggled in my bed somewhere high in the clouds. I was thrilled.

A couple of weeks went by and each morning I would smile as I nestled each pillow into its rightful place. I would wander through my room and grin from ear to ear. I felt like such an adult! Whoever said you can have anything nice while you have kids? One afternoon I walked upstairs and noticed the kids were watching a cartoon in my room. I went into my bathroom and a few short minutes later I came out only to have my worst horror realized. There stood Mason next to my bed. He had a permanent marker in his hand and was violently attacking my bedspread. I willed my legs to move but they felt like lead. By the time I snatched the horrible ink-ridden marker out of that grubby little hand, the damage was done. My princess bed had been permanently scarred.

In my rage I threw Mason in his room, slammed the door, and reached for the phone. I called Jake and informed him that he probably wouldn't have a son when he got home. Jake tried to be sympathetic but I know that secretly he was pumping his fist in victory that he wouldn't have to deal with the decorative pillows anymore. "Well," he said, "have him sign it." What??? Am I really hearing this? Has my husband lost it? Is he really telling me to willfully allow Mason back to my precious bed to sign his name??? Lunatic! He continues, "Ang, there is nothing we can do about it now. Have him sign it. Put the date on it. One day this will be funny and you will want to remember this." I was not convinced. What did he really expect me to do with a king sized comforter that has been defaced. Did he want me to save it for him and give it to Mason on his graduation day? I can see it now... "Look son, you have come so far!" Ridiculous. After a few more minutes of breathing into a paper bag, I did what any obsessive person would to with something that they cherished. I walked into Mason's bedroom, gave him a hug and a kiss, and told him I was sorry. And I cried. I then got on my knees and told Heavenly Father sorry for allowing myself to throw a tantrum over a material thing, I walked into my room and flipped the comforter over so you can't see the scars from the door. And I had him sign it. One day it will be funny but I am not there yet. I am learning the tough lessons of motherhood. This lesson? No, as a mom you really can't have anything nice. But I have my kids and that is enough. And I bet I am the only mom around that can claim they have their son's graduation gift 16 years ahead of schedule.