Mother’s Day

A little late, I know.  All the adorable breakfasts-in-bed and handmade cards with misspellings have already been posted everywhere but here.  Will you accept late work?  Life’s been busy!

Here is Rocco, not exactly sure how to spell “happy” and thus trying to cover all the bases.


Leo describes me as being luving, caring, runny, sweet, and zuper.


He likes that I read to him, as illustrated by this picture:


(Notice our unique family trait of having legs that connect to our necks.)  Apparently I have him on a leash?  Or maybe the word I’m saying, which he tells me is BLAH, is traveling straight into his ear?

Here we are again, and you can see that by now our bodies have grown in—or at least we have disguised the problem with long, shapeless shirts–but we’re still waiting on those arms.


I don’t know why the next little thing pictured here made me so happy. 


Maybe because it showed up in the shower three days after Mother’s Day.  Maybe it’s because he didn’t have enough R’s and O’s and had to improvise.  Maybe it’s because I remember that shower he took, when I kept knocking on the door, saying, “ROCCO, YOU’RE TAKING TOO LONG IN THERE!”

Vincenzo, being in middle school and not having teachers to save his little butt, did not have anything to present me on Mother’s Day.  I told him it was okay; laying guilt trips on at my children is one of my joys on Mother’s Day, and he made that possible.  But at 8:30 that night, my phone rang.  It was Vincenzo, calling from his bedroom to wish me a happy Mother’s Day. 

Kevin’s not big on holidays, so there were no flowers, no breakfast in bed, no gifts to unwrap.  He tells me I’m not his mom, after all.  (Although, I point out, he doesn’t do anything for his own mom either.  I take care of that for him.)

But whatever.  In the end, I got the one thing I really wanted for Mother’s Day: a bunch of misspelled words and a kid literally phoning it in, which together made for a pretty good blog post.

That’s all I really wanted.

Eating on the run tonight—who knows where we’ll land?

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