Post Mother's Day Reflection

I'm not a fan of Hallmark holidays.  You know, those excuse holiday's which see the value of a flower with a 5 day life span shoot up 300%.  Those ones where card companies make you feel the need to spend $3.95 on a card with a photo stock image and someone else's half hearted attempt at saying what's in your heart, so they can continue funding a floundering cable channel that shows crappy made for tv movies long enough to sucker Oprah into buying it from them to continue her march towards world dominance.  But Mothers' Day. ...  I'm ok with that one.  That one makes sense to me.  Maybe it's because the mothers I've been exposed to earned it.  Hell, if that's the case then they should have a Mothers' Week - one Sunday in the football off season hardly seems enough.  I was raised by a working mother.  A woman who busted her ass day in and day out so I could go to a private school, a great college, have a kitchen full of  food and a young life full of unbelievable experiences.  Then I married a woman who's become a stay at home mom.  She may not punch a clock but she works harder and dedicates more of her self then anyone I've ever met.  I get my teaser runs at nights when she teaches, but dinner, bath and bed is like a preview of the feature film.  It's 2 minutes of edited clips that really give you very little of the 3 hour epic.  On Saturday Gina had a jewelry show and it's the first time I've had all three girls by myself - the last few she's taken Rosaline with her since she's still breastfeeding.  Let's just say it was appropriate that Mothers' Day followed, because I certainly appreciated my wife more then ever when she got home.  5 AM Rosaline was ready to go.  Talking and squealing like a teenager at a Bieber concert.  Girls followed suit shortly and we cued up Dora so I could get things going.  Naturally Rosaline wasn't her usual charming self; teeth are starting to make their way through so she's been up and down in the attitude department.  So the day basically was happy for 20 minutes, angry for an hour, sleep for 20 minutes, repeat.  Her schedule being thrown off only made taking care of the girls more complicated, which adjusted their attitudes as well so by 5 when Gina walked back through the door it was like the second coming of the Messiah.  It's not that I wouldn't appreciate my wife otherwise, but it certainly adds to her value in my eyes when I've dealt with her life for half a day.  I don't know how she goes through all of that and is still smiling when I come home from work.  Maybe she's delusional.  Maybe it's the same euphoria I had when she got home.  Maybe she's just the most amazing, brilliant, strong and capable woman in the world.  Then again, maybe it's just the boxed wine in the cupboard beneath the microwave.