I wake up before 6:00 a.m. to a child stealing my pillow and a husband snoring.  Happy Mother’s Day, 2012.

I crawl out of bed to ready for the day of festivities…birthday present openings and birthday breakfast for the ten-year old, phone calls, church, dinner out, visits with family, church again, lesson planning for tomorrow, various other odds and ends…phew.  It is only sunrise, and the day stretches out before me like a rubber band, ready to snap under the slightest pressure.

We start the day off with one child emotionally put-out that we did not include him on morning still-in-bed birthday song singing, as is our custom here at the Gard household.  We are already negotiating and making deals, and the sun is just coming up over the horizon.  Upon quickly smoothing things out, our happy troop heads downstairs to open gifts with the Birthday Girl.

As soon as the gifts are opened, Little One immediately tries to steal and manhandle the biggest of the gifts, while the rest of the family watches with awe her ability to so easily get her own way.  Man-i-pu-la-tor.  And we will see more where this came from before darkness brings another day to a close.  Mark. My.Words.  Or my name’s not Lori Gard.  We schedule in time slots with ‘the gift’, and again, a near blow-out is avoided.

We’ll save that glorious event for breakfast.

While I am in the shower, Husband slips out to Tim Horton’s to pick up three breakfast sandwiches, two coffees and a box of Timbits.  Being that only three of us like egg on a biscuit, you would think that three little inoffensive sandwiches would go unnoticed.  But no.  The three sandwiches become the center of an all-out brawl.  While some are vying for the sandwich, others are fighting for those same children’s right NOT to get a bite.  We have one that leaves the table for the entire breakfast, and another that gets a stern talking to.  I divide my sandwich in half.

So far, so lovely.

After breakfast, we manage to get ready for church in record time and arrive for the first time all year before the service has begun.  This, in itself, is a Mother’s Day gift for the record books.   We settle in for a busy morning at church, and after things finish up for the morning, our entire family heads off to the busiest little restaurant in West Prince- the Chinese restaurant.  Things start off with a bit of a bang as our own family comes in last, and thus Hubby and I are secluded to the end of the table with the ten grandchildren and no other grown-ups.  We can hear adult conversation off in the distance, as the table is by necessity a mile long so as to fit the various Gard family members that must eat around it.  And we can see adults.  But we cannot converse.  I stare at an Oriental picture on the wall in hopes of getting inspiration, and it does come.   In the form of nature’s calling.

I head off to the restroom hoping to clear my head and avoid the confusion of our dining arrangements in the process.  As I near a completion of my visit to the Ladies Room, I go to grab some toilet paper from the dispenser, and the whole rig comes off the wall and lands on my head.  I am still without paper, so I secure the unit, and try again.  The machine falls once more and lands again on my head.  So, while I prop it up with my injured head, I manage to secure the paper needed to finish the job, all the while nervously looking under the next stall to make sure there are no recognizable shoes on that side.  Lucky for me, I was flying solo.

This day is going from crazy to insane.

I wrap things up, and get out of there, again in record time.  If anything, Mother’s Day 2012 has been about setting new personal bests in the area of speediness.  For that, I can give myself a big pat on the back.

And so it goes.   Or so it went, rather.  For now I am staring at a computer monitor trying to think happy thoughts about Mother’s Day and how much it means to all us poor mamas out there just trying to survive the madness.  It is definitely a “extraordinary” day.  That’s for sure.

So as Mother’s Day nears a close, I don’t know about all you other mamas, but it is rather a relief for this one.  So many expectations and so much pressure.  Not sure I can handle more than one day of special treatment for mothers per year…it might just do me in.  But whether I like it or not, next Sunday is a-comin’, and it is bound to be a doozy.  It’s my birthday, and I can only imagine what craziness, insanity and downright funniness might arise.  One can only imagine.  I’ll keep you posted.