Today was a lovely Mother's Day. Mimosas in the tub, with a little treat from LUSH to perfume the air and soften the skin, while the DH cooked brunch.
Despite the "help," it turned out spectacularly: Eggs Benedict with lox and Hollandaise sauce - made by the Man himself, from scratch - smooth and creamy and perfect. No, you can't have him.
No Mother's Day post would be complete without a tribute to my own mother, although I won't encroach on her privacy with pictures. It was she who taught me to sew, as early in life as I can remember. She invited a friend over to teach us both crochet when I was six, and encouraged me as I taught myself to knit a few years later. Most importantly though, she taught me not to be afraid to try anything that caught my eye. She instilled in me the notion that there was nothing I couldn't make if I just took my time, read the instructions and worked at it patiently. And if there were no instructions, or we couldn't afford to buy a pattern? That just meant some careful measuring and a bit of figuring, that was all. Although she delegated the task of math teacher to my father during the early home schooled years, it was she who taught me the "can do" approach to problem solving that resulted in my aptitude for algebra. Her seemingly inexhastible stash cupboard always yielded up just the right bit of fabric or yarn for my projects, and though money was tight, she was unfailingly generous with materials.
Arthritis prevents her from doing much needlework any more, but as always, she has adapted and moved on - painting now. I hope with all my heart that I can pass on her legacy to my own children.
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