A Mother’s Day Minute

Momma’s babies. Kassidi at 294 months and Kolton at 264 months at The University of Texas Ring Day Ceremony.

By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher

It’s that time of year again – the most important holiday of the entire year – if you are a momma. And if you’re not, it is still the most important second only to the birth and death of our Lord and Savior – just accept it.

Mother’s Day is the Super Bowl. It’s the Academy Awards. It is prom night, your wedding day and the day your babies were born all rolled into one, and if you have a momma and don’t show up and bring it, it’s a thing – a really big thing – at least in the Kaminski household.

Fortunately, Tim Kaminski has taught our children the significance of the Holy Grail of Mother’s Day. I truly believe that he does appreciate my die-hard efforts as a mother. Now he doesn’t always like me much – I question his opinions, often – but I know that he does appreciate the fact that I kept his children alive and out of prison.

Mr. Kaminski started the Mother’s Day homage when Kassidi and Kolton were babies making me misshaped pottery, pot holders with their little handprints stamped on them and photo frames out of sea shells. I have to tell you the truth: I cherish these handmade treasures, and I keep them all. Yes, I am an episode of Hoarders when it comes to my babies. Mr. Kaminski has tried over the years to get me to part with some of my handmade artisan treasures by Kassidi and Kolton. He started years ago when I was cleaning out my jewelry chest and found a priceless gem: a necklace made of construction paper and uncooked noodles, handcrafted by my precious firstborn. I won’t share the gory details, but Mr. Kaminski now realizes firsthand what a moot point is and because he is not as fair skinned as I am, bruises on him heal relatively quickly. It’s quite remarkable; I’m sure it’s that Czech/Polish lineage.

As our babies have gotten older, and Mr. Kaminski has provided both of our babies – really my babies – the means with which to fly the coop, the one thing I want from my kids is their time. Now when I say “time,” I really mean their undivided attention, complete and total adoration and as Aretha said, “R-E-S-P-E-C-T.” I want to wake up in my jammies and them be in my house in their jammies. I want them to ask me, “Momma, what’s for dinner?” I want them to sit in my lap. Yes, they are both taller than I am, but they still fit in my lap and always will. I want to walk to the kitchen, stop abruptly and at least one of them hit me from behind because they weren’t expecting the sudden halt, and they are literally that physically close to me. And yes, I may or may not have separation anxiety when it comes to my babies. Let’s just go with may.

I truly love these children more than my sofa, and I really, really love my sofa. I made Mr. Kaminski buy the island – the blingy, huge, comfy sectional with massive pillows – and get rid of his God-awful recliner. He was actually sitting in said recliner one night when it finally gave out and landed him on the floor. Sandra and I, my beloved housekeeper, actually hauled said recliner to the curb while he was at work and left it there. Miracle of miracles, it disappeared! When Mr. Kaminski got upset with me over the missing eyesore, I merely told him I was far too concerned for his safety for him to be sitting in a faulty recliner. He needed a nice, sturdy new sectional – something he could count on. Yes, it’s a miracle he still comes home at night.

So, for Mother’s Day, what do I really want? I want a minute – just a minute with my babies. And yes, a minute is subject to interpretation. In my house, it’s approximately 48 hours. After all, that’s all us mommas really want – time with our beloved babies.

Happy Mother’s Day ladies! I hope you and your babes can share a precious minute. See y’all next week – on the porch!