So much has been going on during this busy month that I don’t know where to begin. My job is finally starting to wind down and with only 15 more days of student attendance, summer is just around the corner. I only wish that the weather would cooperate because it was a pretty cold and crappy, rainy week. Even so I continue to have more and more milestones since my surgery and more and more reasons to be glad that I went through with it.
Saturday was my son’s First Communion. I had prepared for every moment of that day from the cake to our outfits, wanting everything to look perfectly. I had found a black, one-shoulder dress a few months back on a clearance rack that I figured would fit by this day and was pulling it over my head this weekend when I was struck by horror. The dress was WAY too big. I am not used to this yet. I am not used to buying something off the rack and saving it for a few months down the road and then it not fitting. Okay, I take that back, I AM used to things not fitting after a few months but NOT used to them being to big!! Luckily, as I have posted before, I have clothing in the next few sizes down so going through my downright immoral amount of black dresses I found one that would work. I poofed my hair with a bump-it hidden inside and fastened my “Madonna and Child” gold chain round my neck. The look was totally Guido, but hey, this was my son’s communion so it was also totally appropriate.
Say what you will about Catholicism, and I can’t promise I won’t agree with you on a few of your views and judgments, but regardless a child’s Fist Holy Communion is one of the most important events in an Italian Mama’s life. My son was dressed in a dapper white jacket and pin-striped pants, monogrammed tie, and black rosary in his pocket. As a family, we presented him to the holy table and he partook in a sacrificial ritual that is centuries old. I had goosebumps and tears in my eyes as the priest presented him with the host, hoping he would remember his response as we had rehearsed it so many times, “Amen.” And then he took his first sip of wine (which I’m not gonna lie he was a little too excited about for a 7 year-old) and responded by proceeding to make a gagging face and cover his mouth with his hand. Mortified!! I grabbed him by the ear and whispered threateningly, “that was Jesus!” and soon after we were back in the pew singing and clapping along with the modern bilingual liturgy. I wished I had brought my tambourine. It was a BEAUTIFUL DAY.And as if that wasn’t excitement enough, I awoke today to a post-it note scavenger hunt around my house for Mother’s Day. My kids surprised me with construction paper cards, coupons for good deeds, and hand-printed poems. My husband “surprised” me with a wonderful gift that I picked out myself at Meijer two nights before. But the real surprise was how relaxed I was going to the GINORM Italian buffet at the neighborhood banquet hall. Before my surgery, even though I was committed to having to make some major changes, I still had major anxiety about these sort of situations. I wasn’t sure how I would be able to navigate the times where the food was endless and plentiful (and delicious!!). I was worried that I would feel deprived or embarrassed, or even regretful. Instead I am finding time and time again that I am only reminded that it is only FOOD for Christ’s sake. I am with my family, and I am laughing, and I feel good in my outfit, and I can goddamned breath properly, and one reasonable plate of food is really quite enough, and I am not hungry, or deprived, and I sure as shit am NOT regretful. I am reassured over and over again that it’s going to be and is okay to have to eat less. I already see the changes in myself in how I am able to be a better and healthier Mother to my children and that has been the best Mother’s Day Gift of all =)