Being fifty-something doesn’t make a 6.30am Sunday alarm any easier.
Today, being Mother’s Day, I would have loved a sleep in – especially on this dismal rainy morning.
But I had something fun and more important to do … cheer Wonder Boy across the finish line of the Mother’s Day Classic 8km fun run.
There he is, on the right of shot, in the long-sleeved red top:
I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.
You see … he was running for me.
When it became obvious I wasn’t going to be ready (even to walk or shuffle the distance), Wonder Boy suggested that his Mother’s Day Gift to me would be running the 8km event (4km for me, and 4km for him, I figure).
He knew how much it meant to me. We both knew it.
So on this dreadful, drizzly early morning we joined the sea of pink (the main and really important story is that it’s a breast cancer fund raiser) at Geelong’s Eastern Beach.
Every one of the thousands of people involved in the walk or run events had their own reason for being here today. There’s a lot of emotion and an ambience of positivity that’s hard to beat (and easy to get swept up in).
In contrast to the bright atmosphere, weather conditions were crap.
I waved Wonder Boy off, clutching his water bottle in one hand and my brolly in the other, and made my way to the the finish line to snap the moment.
I’m so poud of him, not just because he ran, but because he knew how important this event is to me. Now we have a new goal … to complete the 2013 event together.
And like a perfect metaphor for that goal, this rainbow appeared above the sea of pink. I’m not even going to articulate what this might have meant to the different people here today.
It’s just cool, right? Magic happens.
We headed home where Mr P’s mum joined us for lunch (prepared by my faves, of course). Lunch grew into a lazy afternoon of chatter and laughter around our family table, easy conversation fuelled by several pots of green tea.
My girl surprised me with an amazing gift: an original watercolour by … My Girl. Like her brother, she knows what’s important to me and that putting thought and creativity into a gift rather than money is the way to make my heart sing. She is so talented and I know she paints when she’s happy (and that makes me happy).
Today I couldn’t be prouder of my offspring or more grateful for the day we’ve all shared.
I only wish my mum could have been here to chat and laugh along with us.
Like me, she’d have been proud that my kids approach Mother’s Day with mindfulness … not materialism.
I hope she’d be proud of me, too, for having instilled those values in my kids, as she did in me.
Miss you, Mum. Happy Mother’s Day.