Called on Account of Rain

Fresh cut flowers in a vase on the table, construction paper cards, blueberry pancakes and orange juice for breakfast and a day without housework. Cue the Hallmark announcer and start pouring the mimosa's-Mother's Day is here!

Except that in our area, the rain arrived ahead of Mother's Day and stayed much too long. And if April showers meant May flowers, the May showers have meant rain in our basement. Which we expected and although annoying, it has been within the realm of manageable for the past couple of weeks. Until last night when the final round of storms left both sides of our basement completely and totally flooded. As in stray items floating past you as you stood looking down at the bottom of the stairs flooded. And with those final two inches, my Mother's Day was called on account of rain.

I know my husband did not have fun pumping out gallon after gallon of water and throwing away Hefty bags full of wet, moldy comic books. Really, I appreciate that I married a man who will carry a wet vac up and down the stairs for an entire afternoon without complaint or self-pity while I play on the swings. Not to mention that the trash bags full of collectible comic books he spent much of the day throwing out were his, not mine. And while I do love the little cardboard flower pot and geranium my son proudly presented me with and the "I love mom" booklet he made in school I am expecting a do-over.

Yes, it was a day off from baseball, that's true. The kids and I spent a sunny day at the park and bookstore and it was just fine-they even treated me to mini-brownies at the local Whole Foods cafe. And did I mention it was a day off from baseball-no practice, cleats to shop for, games or team photos. As far as Sunday goes around my house, I definitely got the better end of the deal today.

But seriously, there are two days a year I expect to spend eating a breakfast I neither made nor cleaned up after, opening small but thoughtful and completely appreciated gifts, having time to read something not out loud and not on the New York Times bestseller list for children and enjoying any remaining time underneath the covers of my bed. Alone. While my husband mops up spilled juicy-juice, mediates arguments, folds laundry and figures out what to order in for dinner. My birthday and Mother's Day.

So happy Mother's Day to you and yours. And you know where to look for me on Father's Day.