I don't particularly care for Mother's Day; I like to celebrate my Mopsy and mom-in-law, but now that I'm a mother myself, I sometimes dread the forced expectation for a day that, in reality, usually unfolds with a smattering of joy and grumps like any other. The girls were sweet and gave me gifts and goodwill, but John was at work, and I was tired and grouchy, anyway. (Scrooge.)
SMOTHER'S Day, in contrast, is the joyous and jolly day that falls the Monday following Mother's Day. I think John invented it, but you may borrow it for yourselves if you wish.
It was marked by a happy date with my Heart, for which we brought all our wonderful children, and during which John tried to initiate Ezekiel into the joys of coffee. We used the gift card you gave us, Mom O., and I celebrated my family by eating a dozen rolls slathered in honey butter. Then (because what else could I order on Smother's Day?), I enjoyed a plateful of smothered chicken. You bet.
On our way out I took the picture below for our friend in Texas. :)
I am glad to be a mother-- glad beyond words-- even when it doesn't include a plateful of warm rolls dripping with honey butter, but I won't refuse them when they're offered.
Because I'm unfailingly polite, that's why.