Dinner Guest #20 - Dono and Margaret

For some women, it’s a box of chocolates.  For others, it’s perfume, spa treatments, and designer handbags.

This year for Mother’s Day, I had one simple, inexpensive request:

A two-hour nap.

But is it possible to nap when you have dinner guests arriving at 5:3o pm? 

The answer is:  Yes, if your guests are my in-laws, Dono and Margaret.  I am lucky.  My in-laws are some of the kindest people on this planet.  They are happy to get together, but not demanding of our time.   They are willing to help with all kinds of inconvenient projects like moving furniture, preparing tax returns, and rides to the airport.  Best of all, they love their grandchildren.  On more than one occasion, Dono has said to me in an overly serious voice,

“Are you aware that your children are really cute?”

Dinner was unusually simple.  By some miracle, the enchiladas I cooked up last Sunday accidentally made a double batch.  So I froze the extra casserole dish, thawed it out Sunday morning, and baked the enchiladas for an hour before the guests arrived.  I then prepared a simple side dish of roasted sweet potatoes, threw together a pan of brownies, and my cooking was done.  My husband brought home a few bags of pre-made Pao de Queijo rolls from the Brazilian market and my mother-in-law brought a platter of fruit and dip.    

After the meal, Margaret and I opened Mother’s Day gifts.  My children had prepared some fun homemade cards with the help of their school teachers.  I learned that Kate (7) thinks I am 39 years old, thinks I weigh 133 pounds, and thinks my favorite clothing is underwear.   I smiled and laughed at how she imagines me younger, but fatter, and not very stylish.

Kate then announced she would play a piano piece for us called “Watching the Clock,” a staccato tune she memorized this week.  Afterward, Grandpa Dono joined the kids at the piano and played his old, stand-by “Swans on the Lake.”  Jack pounded out his version of “Sailor Jack,” and Rock hammered on the base notes while holding down the sustaining pedal.

Dono and Margaret left around bedtime.  The children stood on the driveway, watching and waving at their grandparents as they drove away.

In the past, I have categorically refused to cook on Mother’s Day.  I always considered it my official day-off from mothering.  However, I must admit I didn’t mind preparing a meal this year.  After all, my husband ensured I got what I wanted.  Sunday afternoon, he disappeared with the children for several hours. 

I found myself in an abnormally quiet house. 

A cool, dark room. 

Perfect for a nap.