My Happy Mother's Week

Table with Mother and Child
Artist: Caleb Jennings

The mother, left, provides her son food. The son, who eagerly reaches for the provisions, loves his mother for providing him with sustenance. The contemporary design of the table is a throwback to minamalism, but the narrative in the piece is telling. The table's simplicity and functionality are augmented by the careful placement of the oversized strawberry, a favorite food of the artist's.



I love Mother's Week. What? You only have a Mother's Day? Oh, I pity you. I also have a birthday week. It's a marvelous thing, the expansion of holidays. Yes, my birthday is a holiday.


Mother's Week kicked off Thursday when I was lying in bed feeling very sorry for myself even while doped up on vicodin. Benjamin's pre-school teacher had kindly brought him home in the late morning and Ben immediately came straight upstairs to give me flowers he had planted in a lovely container. Also in the container was a craft stick with Ben's picture adhered to a cut-out of a flower. He promptly showed me the dirt under his fingernails as a sign of authentication. He then put the flowers on my nightstand, sat gingerly next to me and said in a soft voice, "Let's watch them grow now."


Surprise surprise, Caleb ALSO brought home a plant for me! (If you read my previous post about gardening, you must be reassured that I have placed my fledling plants in a spot where they get adequate sun. Caleb also reminds me daily to water them. He knows my track record with plants.) By mid-Mother's Week, I had accumulated quite a lot of foliage.


Caleb also brought home an essay he wrote about me in honor of Mother's Week. It reads as follows:


My name is Caleb. My Mom's favorite activity is exercising. My
Mom's favorite food is pizza. My Mom's favorite color is blue. My Mom
is 10 inches tall. My Mom is the best at reading to me. My Mom thinks
it's fun to watch T.V. My Mom shows how much she loves me by giving
me hugs.


As if this wasn't enough, he also wrote and illustrated a book all about me! It's not To Kill a Mockingbird, but I was riveted:


I love my mom because she givs me food. I love my mom because she
reds a book to me. I love my mom because she helps me. I love my
mom because she tax me plasis.


I believe the strategy in Caleb's classroom is to just get comfortable writing and sounding out words. CORRECTING misspelled words will probably come around the third grade or so.


Daniel and Ella have not yet produced a gift, provided a story or a poem, or even one of those coupon books good for a free "I'll go on the potty this time" or "I won't be a complete grouchy stinker-pants when I wake up from my nap today." But the week isn't over yet!


And, yes, I will cherish Caleb's writings about me for always and ever and will have them buried with me when I die (yeah- I'm that kind of crazy), although I am a bit concerned that he thinks me a ten-inch person who enjoys exercise. He was dead on about the pizza and the tv, though.