How I Earned My Mother's Day

My mother's day this year was heaven. Sleeping in, breakfast of a gorgeous fruit salad and my requested pumpkin waffles, a seitan stew for dinner and a lot of dishes and laundry that I did not have to do. Perfection. Sometimes, I just don't feel worthy. Sometimes. And then I remember how I earn my keep around here. After listening to William stress to the point of collapsing on the ground, with a hula-hoop around his waist, in a heap on the floor, exhausted of hula-hooping overload, I agreed to email his teacher who is grading him on his hula skills tomorrow. This takes some guts, and some humor and is an example of swallowing my pride in the name of love.

Mr (blank):

My son William is in your Lifetime Sports class and has been stressed about the Hula Hooping "test" coming up on Monday. He has spent hours (yup, I said hours) practicing to try and make that hoop stay up on his non-existent hips. He is worried his grade will suffer because of his lack of hooping skills.

I am giggling as I type this and I am hoping you are getting a chuckle out of this email as well, but I thought you should know that regardless of how long that hoop stays up on his hips, there was a tremendous amount of effort put into the exercise.

I can hear the snickers in the staff room from here. . .

Oh, William, my perfectionist, how I love thee.