Some days, "Thank You" just doesn't cover it...

Okay, so you read Mommy Blogs.  Obviously, or you wouldn't be here.  (Because seriously, it can't possibly be me, right?)  Well, if you read Mommy Blogs, then you very likely are familiar with Rants from Mommyland, the awesome, creative, kind, and ever-hilarious Happy Hookers.

The ladies at Mommyland put together a little pay-it-forward style project last Christmas, matching up mommies in need of a little help, a little love, with mommies who had it to spare.  It was such an insane success that they decided to do it again for Mother's Day, calling it the Mother Pucker Project.

I sent them an email.  I figured, hey, why not, the worst that can happen is nothing, right?

A few days went by, then a week, and I didn't hear anything back, so I figured my mail got lost in the shuffle or something, and did my best not to be disappointed.  After all, who really goes out of their way to make some total stranger happy for Mother's Day?

Well...

I was wrong.

Mea culpa.  

(For those not familiar with Latin... think "Oopsie!  My bad!!")

This morning, my mother in law handed me a package.  A darned heavy package.  I wrinkled up an eyebrow and thought "I didn't order anything!"

Then I saw the return address.

I didn't recognize the name.  

I blinked... thought... and remembered the Mother Pucker Project.  And immediately started tearing up.

I got a knife, carefully opened the box, and stick a fork in me, I was DONE.

"Mother's Survival Kit"

Each item in that basket came with a meaning attached.  They ranged from "Velcro - for when you need to get a grip" to "Bath Salts - to 'take you away'.  You deserve a quiet break."  The stuff itself?  Some cute, some useful, some entirely frivolous, but what really got me was the thought and effort that went into every little piece.  The printed sheet you see there is a copy of Don't Carpe Diem from Momastery, and it's awesome, I highly recommend that you read it.  Substitute your particular consuming occupation for motherhood and it applies to pretty darned near every walk of life.

The book... is a journal.  I gave it the title "Mother's Hideaway" in my best calligraphic hand, and this is what I wrote, with tears sliding down my face.

Today, a stranger was kind.  A stranger lifted me out of a content moment an into a moment so intensely happy that I could not stop the tears from falling.  A stranger reminded me that it's okay to not be perfect, to not get everything done, to walk away from my (FINALLY) sleeping child, curl up into a little ball, and sob with frustration and fatigue.  A stranger told me there will be better days ahead, and gave me tools for surviving the hard days that are here now.

A stranger, who will never see my face, said I was worthy of motherhood.

Fit for the journey.

Up to the task.

That I would make it.

Her name is D_____.

Some days... "Thank you" just doesn't cover it, ya know?