Mother's Day weekend experience? FUCK. YOU. I was smarting from guilt because a year earlier, my mother had spent her last mother's day alive babysitting for me so that I could go to an adults-only party with Jon's family. (None of us knew she she was sick then.) I realized that Mother's Day sets us up for failure, by raising expectations and entitlements and tossing chains of guilt around us all. I decided to set myself and my children free and ban all Mother's Day observance.
Except not, because it's impossible to ignore and even though I tell myself it's a day like any other, I find myself suppressing, "Really? On Mother's Day?" type thoughts when everyday conflicts and issues crop up. But I really do try not to have expectations. Ordinary days are really the best days.
What did we do this fine weekend of ordinary days? Friday night we went with our neighbors for a beer to The Farm and later put in an appearance at Friday's after five where we met Jon's brother who was in town, packing up our nephew from his first year at UVA. We finished off the night with a drink at Ten.
Saturday afternoon I went to Fifth Season, ostensibly to buy tomato stakes. I had no idea they have a nursery out back! It's also the mother lode of canning, cheese making, and beer brewing supplies. I left with the stakes and two astilbes, a wide-mouth funnel and canning rack, and a giant canister which now stores our sugar. Isn't it glorious?
|A five pound bag would get lost in here|
Why, when sugar and flour come in five pound bags, are canisters so small? For twenty-one years, I've been pouring partial five-pound bags into my inadequate sugar canister and leaving the half-empty bag in the cupboard until there was room in the canister for it. I have a similar problem with oatmeal, so as soon as I have time I'm going back for another one. Years ago, I bought a canister that holds fifteen pounds of flour and I still consider it one of my all-time best purchases. Suspect I have passed a blogger threshold in photographing my canisters and in shamelessly using mention of oatmeal as an SEO.
Seamus obliged me by taking pictures of the canister shelf at Williams Sonoma when we were in Short Pump on Sunday. Paltry. Serious cooks need serious food storage.
Back to Saturday: Seamus made us Alice Waters' Bolognese sauce for dinner on and Jon and I went out for martinis later that night. Sunday afternoon we drove to Richmond to collect Brigid, who will be with us all week until the summer semester starts, which I would consider an awesome Mother's Day present, were I to celebrate it, which I don't, and yet, seem to anyway, at least a tiny bit.
Here's a picture of my mom in 1970 (in the middle) looking groovy with her sister and sister-in-law in the matching skirts that my grandmother crocheted for them.
*My sister was cured, Ian's heart murmur turned out to be harmless, Grace eventually began to gain weight, although it took months to get her back on track, and Brigid's asthma became less severe as she grew, although for many years, we traveled everywhere with a nebulizer.