With Mother’s Day just around the corner, I’m moved to remember all the sacrifices my Mom made for my brother, sister and me, and to reflect back on moments with my own children.
There are certainly Magical Mama Moments indeed. Yet sometimes it’s those not-so-magical, life-is-completely-crazy moments that bring the biggest smile to my face.
Like the time I swore I would not get involved in my son’s science fair project…
Yet there I was, at 6:30 in the morning, up to my elbows in yellow rubber gloves standing at the kitchen sink scraping shark meat off of shark skin.
That was after the numerous trips earlier in the week to the craft store to buy clay for the model of the shark skin. And blue paint to decorate the display board. And the dried moss to hot glue on the board to resemble seaweed.
This was also after seven phone calls and two trips to the supermarket to see if any New Hampshire grocery store could possibly procure a piece of shark meat in the middle of March.
And, oh by the way, the skin still had to be on the meat.
So much for not getting involved, I thought to myself as I struggled to turn on the faucet with my elbow.
But then I remembered the look in my son’s eyes when he learned shark skin had been used as sandpaper by ancient cultures. His eyes got big and wide like they do when he’s super excited.
Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help but get excited, too.
So I searched and eventually found shark meat.
But that was only the beginning. Then the skin had to be separated from the meat.
How? You might ask. That was my question, too.
“Pee?” I said to my son. “The shark meat has to soak in pee?”
“You should call it urine, Mom,” my son said, trying to sound more scientific.
So while my kids wiped sleep from their eyes, I scraped the previously pee-soaked shark meat (which I’d washed several times in antibacterial soap), took off the rubber gloves to whisk eggs for French toast and endured the cat rubbing around my legs in response to the smell of the shark meat.
At least I thought it was the smell of the shark, until I glanced over and saw the cat’s empty food bowl and the chunky poop lying on the floor in front of his bowl.
“It’s actually throw up, Mom,” my daughter said upon closer examination.
“And it has mouse guts in it,” my son added.
I slid the shark meat away from the stove to make a spot to set down the bread and egg mixture, while explaining to my daughter how to turn a plastic bag inside out, stick in her hand and pick up the throw up without ever letting it touch her hand.
But my daughter is a gagger.
“It’s warm,” she half gagged, half screamed, as she dropped the bag and ran into the bathroom where she dry heaved over the toilet bowl (where, by the way, the bin of shark meat had sat not too long ago).
“Oh for Goodness sake,” I said, wiping away tears of laughter, flipping the French toast, and picking up the bag to scoop up the mouse-laced throw up.
I was back at the stove while my son donned the rubber gloves and had a go at scraping the sharkskin. When I noticed bits of shark meat flying in the general direction of the stove, I moved the pan to a burner further from the sink
I took a moment to stop and take it all in.
My daughter was back from the bathroom watching her brother peel back the smelly yellow rubber gloves and I was pulling the pan of French toast off the stove.
Then, all at once, it hit me – the smell of the shark meat, the feel of the cat poop, the look of the gooey egg mixture, and my stomach clenched, my throat tightened and… I gagged.
And I gagged gain.
Yup my daughter got it from me.
The kids stared wide-eyed, delighting at the possibility of what might happen next.
But before we could find out, I pointed to their coats, headed for the back door and with my hand covering my mouth managed to mutter, “We’ll pick up breakfast on the way to school,” and wondered what possible other adventures that morning could bring.
Looking for an easy, yet meaningful Mother’s Day gift, please consider ordering the Moms in your life a copy of A Mom’s Guide to Creating a Magical Life!
“Written for the overwhelmed Mom looking for more joy, playfulness, and serenity in her life, A Mom’s Guide to Creating a Magical Life is like a GPS for her soul.”