First of all, I would like to wish a Happy (belated) Mother’s Day to everyone! If I’ve learned anything as a mom it’s that the title “Mother” carries a very broad definition. There are many people out there who deserve recognition for being a loving care-taker who may have no traditional “children” to speak of. I hope everyone celebrated the holiday with gusto!

Now, to those naysayers who claim that Mother’s Day is “just another commercialized Hallmarkholiday” I would have to beg your pardon. I disagree. Who am I to mock a holiday which enables me to take full advantage of my family’s obligation to honor me? I choose to embrace Mother’s Day as I believe it was originally intended…with respect for my own mother and pride that I am a part of those celebrated. I choose to celebrate it in its entirety with tissue-paper flowers, hand-scribbled greeting cards…and Ferrero-Rocher. (I’m pretty sure this particular confection is a form of legalized narcotics.)

I was woken up on Mother’s Day morning with a warning to not enter the kitchen. Apparently, my gift was featured front and center on the kitchen counter. And by some miracle (or, perhaps, due to the massive amounts of sugar consumed the night before) my kids were still asleep. Which meant I had to wait. Lying in bed. Because I have never been a proponent for waking sleeping children. This is due in large partto the experience I have had with the semi-psychotic behaviors displayed by half-asleep, grumpy children. No one should be subjected to that.

Once the kids began to stir, Jer hightailed it into the bedroom to herd them out to the kitchen.

I heard, “Shhh…We need to be quiet.”

“I am being quiet.”

“Mom can hear you.”

“No, she can’t. She’s still feeping.”

“Not anymore, Jack. You’re being so loud.” (At this point, Avery is definitely the louder of the two.)

“You guys both be quiet.” Hey. It wouldn’t be a holiday if someone wasn’t yelling at the kids.

Jer came back to the bedroom to let me know it was time to “wake up” and come out into the kitchen, the kids and my gift were awaiting me.

Now, I have to be honest here.I did this with a bit of trepidation given my history with this holiday and the gifts it has previously entailed.

Toaster oven.

That’s all I’m saying about that.

With my eyes closed, Jer lead me out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where I was immediately squeezed by my son, Jack. He loves any reason to celebrate.

“Happy Mudder’s Day”, he yelled.

“It’s your Happy Mother’s Day,” Avery added enthusiastically.

I opened the cards (which somehow manage to always bring out slight feelings of insecurity about my motherly attributes), teared up quite a bit, hugged my kids and then prepared myself for the gifting portion of the holiday.

Remember? Toaster oven?

I was very pleasantly surprised by my gift.

Jer had researched at length and then purchased me a Cricut Expressions machine. For you scrapbook lovers out there, you probably already know what this is. For those of you who would much rather get your teeth pulled out than entertain the idea of crafting (I can somewhat relate) it is a very cool paper-cutting machine with loads and loads of graphics and various lettering fonts at your disposal. This machine enables you to create personalized cards, quotes, sayings and could make scrapbooking your memories a cinch. And since I’m about a year-and-a-half behind inchronicling my own memories, I could use all the help I can get. With the memory part. Seriously. My memory spans about a two-hour period, and then only if I’ve been keeping notes.

I’m very excited about having this machine at my disposal but will have to admit that I’m a little intimidated by all it can do. I am envisioning many practicesessions in my future and have already began preparing myselfa defenseagainstJer’sexpectation that creative brilliance will automaticallycome pouring from my soul.

I’m not holding my breath.

Iam, however, cranking out some pretty sweet versions of “Mindy” die-cuts.

Mindy