Not many moms can say they received a stolen, used, old choir sweater for Mothers Day,but I can. Proudly.We refer to it as the Asbestos Sweater. It had been stored at the high school, in a room the kids called the asbestos room. My son thought it would be the perfect Mothers day gift for me.He was right.
It was his Junior year in high school, 2009. He had been taking an A.P. test, finished early and had time to kill. And some Mothers Day shopping to do.Only one of my kids would see an old, itchy, ugly sweater from 40 years ago and think..”YES!”
Listen, as the mom of four males, sometimes you are just glad they remember to put the toilet seat back down. So a gift, any gift is a bonus. One does not ever imagine or expect an asbestos sweater though.But he knew me. He knew I would “get” it. That I would laugh, and want to put it on, and wear it.He knew that I would tell everyone in a 50 mile radius about the amazing gift my kid got me.
Of course, there was the year that all of my sons forgot it was Mothers Day. My husband, being the smart man he is, knew that before I had a complete and total emotional meltdown, whisked me away to the casino for the day.
Through the years, I have had so many wonderful Mothers Day gifts and celebrations. There was the year one of them got me a bag of Doritos and a princess pillow. I mean, really, stuff I could use and need! There have been the years filled with homemade gifts from school(my favorite, and I miss every year).The years filled with flowers, and plants, and cakes and chocolates. And every single year since I became a mom, my husband Mark, spoils me.He makes me feel that he truly appreciates me as the mother of his sons.
The other night I was chatting online with my son overseas. The asbestos sweater giver. I had asked if he was still planning on a visit home this summer. He told me his plans had changed and he wouldn’t be. And I began to ugly cry, in the dark. I wanted to have all my boys back, in one room again. Laughing. The kind of laughing that makes you lose your breath, and gasp for air. Because of all the memories I have of being a mother, it is the laughter I recall the most. The things they said or did that made me just laugh until I cried.The way they knew I would get the joke, that I would just laugh. I hope when they look back, that is what they remember too. That their house was chaotic and crazy, and loud and messy. And filled with laughter. And that would be the best gift they could ever give me.