Remember those days when the idea of being awoken from slumber to a serenade under the full moon seemed so romantic? Well, I just lived that dream, and can testify that it is not nearly so romantic in real life! Let me rewind to tell you the story in full.
Saturday night I was tucked up snug in my bed. It was actually one of those rare silent nights without packs of howling dogs, and I had drifted peacefully off to sleep. But that was not to last. At the stroke of midnight, a mariachi band erupted in the courtyard below our bedroom window, complete with three trumpeters and a very ardent singer belting out their praise of mothers. By the beginning of the fifth song I pulled out my earplugs. It sounded like it was going to be a long night.
The irony of celebrating mothers by waking them in the middle of the night was not lost on me. Though in many ways it was fitting. It took me back to my sleepless nights with a new baby in the house, being woken at all hours of the night. Even now, with my children far past the baby years, my sleep is not the sleep it was before I was a mother. I sleep with vigilance, listening for any sounds of distress from one of my children. Sunday morning I stumbled, bleary-eyed, into church, running on much too little sleep – not unlike many Mother’s Days in years past. My heart was filled while I listened to the children sing “mother dear I love you so” first in Spanish and then in English (especially for me), followed by little fingers passing out tissue paper roses to all of the mothers and yet-to-be-mothers in the room.
The sleepless nights and all of the other sacrifices of motherhood are well worth it. But, next time you want to sing my praises, might I request that you do it around 8 o’clock at night? All of us mothers will thank you!
A few images from my years of motherhood: