Yesterday was Mother’s Day and I saw a lot of stuff on social media about it. I saw pictures of moms with their kids. I saw gifts that moms received. I saw brunch celebrations and bouquets of flowers. I read some beautiful words about celebrating moms, remembering moms, honoring the women in our lives who aren’t our moms but who inspire us and raise us up. It was all pretty wonderful and made what can be a bittersweet day for me quite tolerable.
You know what else made it a bomb Mother’s Day?
Teaching my girlie Hannah to bake an apple pie.
To be perfectly honest, I was not excited about baking a pie on Mother’s Day. It’s . . . work. There’s the crust and the peeling and slicing of the apples. There’s the mess and clean up and timing of it all. But I did it gladly. I did it because Hannah asked me if I would. Because Hannah thought this would be a great way of spending time together on Mother’s Day. Because it was a way of remembering and honoring my mom, teaching her granddaughter how to do this thing that she taught me to do when I was about Hannah’s age. Because Hannah sees me as an expert when it comes to baking pie and because she knows I learned from my mom and she wants to be the third generation of women in our family who make really great pie for the people they love.
Because, despite my reluctance to do anything even remotely like work on Mother’s Day, I love my daughter. And it’s the love that makes all the work and mess and time worth the effort.
And maybe also because we got to have a really great pie for dessert. My daughter’s first pie. I’m a proud mommy.
I hope you all had a wonderful day yesterday celebrating the moms in your life. And I hope it included pie.