Yesterday (Mother's Day) morning, I came downstairs and found this:
I'm glad they opted for the sit-down-in-the-dining-room breakfast because I'm so not the breakfast-in-bed type. Happily, my children learned this about me many, many Mother's Days ago. Don't get me wrong, I love breakfast. It's The Most Important Meal of the Day and all that. But in bed? Not so much.
So my family made a Mother's Day Breakfast/Brunch for me yesterday. What I loved most (besides that they got up early and decorated and made that cool sign and set the table and that there were fresh flowers) was that when I saw all that they had done, I realized that they had learned it from me.
I'm the one who has always insisted we use real plates and real napkins. That there be fresh flowers and serving dishes. That everyone has a place and that there be plenty of food.
I learned all of this, of course, from my own mother. And from the other amazing women in my family who are so skilled at the Art of Hospitality. Truthfully, I think hospitality is part of our Cuban DNA. Which is why it makes me so happy that my family stepped up in this way.
(The "hanging in space" letters, however, are mine. I used them to decorate back in December, see this post: Finding Joy. It was made with my Silhouette Machine, which was hijacked by Lucy to make this particular sign, but that's not important right now.)
I'm the one who usually does all these things. The Best Mother's Day Gift for me was that they had done it just like I would have. In this case, imitation truly was the best form of flattery.
There was the Cuban coffee, perfectly brewed and served by Amy. (Here's her video: How to Make Cuban Coffee With Killer Espuma. You're Welcome.)
Lucy made The Monkey Bread, which was, as always, a big hit. Here's the recipe: About the Monkey Bread or Rule Breaking 101.
Which left me free to enjoy all their efforts and bask in their love and feeling like maybe this motherhood thing was something I'd done pretty well.
And the Cuban Hospitality? Well, I am understanding that, like most life lessons, is something more caught than taught.
Good job, people. I think my job here is done.
Also, I love you, too.