He called me in December with a great idea- to do a photo album for Mom where we re-shoot old photos, and do a "then and now" photo album for her. Time was at a premium, and there was no way that way that we could have managed it for Christmas. Mother's Day was a totally different story.
Our Mother's Day tradition is to try to make Mom cry. We have a good track record, but it has upped the ante over the years. That's the problem with being awesome; flowers and chocolate just won't do it anymore.
Sam and I plotted, planned, and did this project in a couple of days. I recommend sitting down, and swallowing your sip of coffee/tea/whatever before you scroll down.
For safety, here is the breakfast that Andrew and I made. It's our variation on Eggs Benedict- Andrew's special hash browns, poached eggs, and Hollandaise sauce. (We're doing it with bacon next time.) Sam would have helped but we have a One Butt kitchen (meaning, it's too small for more than one person at a time).
Are you ready?
Sam had to squeeze into one of my shirts for that one. He's barrel-chested, like our dad. I am not.
When Sam was little, he loved Matchbox cars. Mom, with the aid of Matchbox cars, could get Sam to do pretty much anything. When Sam was little, he could point at any car on the street and tell you what it was. He could do the same with dinosaurs, but we didn't see many of those on the street.
It is remarkably hard to get tomatoes to stick to facial hair. Notice the artful tomatoes-down-the-shirt.
This is one of my parents' favorite stories, we were taking care of a cat and I was completely enamored with it. In this photo, it is alleged that I was saying "Kiiiiiiitty, I miiiiiiissed you so much!" as I squeezed the living daylights out of the poor cat. We tried to get Elphie to sit in for this shot, but she knew that something was amiss, so she refused to cooperate. Niki, on the other hand, loves to be squeezed and squished. There also might have been cookies.
Dr. Sol, our pediatrician, told Mom that I would be ready for solid foods when I started stealing them off of her plate.
Ah, Sam's old preschool. We were going to try and shoot it at the original spot using Sam's alumni status. Notice how different the "now" shot is? They've taken down all the wood-and-metal play structures and replaced them with safe and modern ones. Pfft.
After going through the photo albums preparing for this, I'm honestly surprised that my parents kept us. Sam and I spent the better part of our documented childhoods being crazy. Mostly me, actually. There are a lot of pictures with a Small and Demented looking Jasmin. A Lot. (Again, not much has changed.) It's a little terrifying, to be honest, but a testament to loving parents, and the nurturing home that Sam and I grew up in.
Oh, and Mom? She laughed so hard that she cried.