Mother's Day

Jim and Robert have always taken me out for Mother’s Day. Most years it’s been for brunch and we’ve been to some wonderful places. And most of the time, the brunches have been beautiful buffets with mimosas and champagne, and a rose or carnation for us moms. But these special brunches get very pricey. I thoroughly relish being pampered and spoiled by my guys, but fifty to seventy-five dollars to serve myself seems a little excessive. And besides, I cannot eat fifty to seventy-five dollars worth of food in one sitting—even when you throw in a couple of mimosas.

Jim and Robert are typical guys in that as soon as they finish their last bite of food, they’re ready to throw their napkins on the table and head for the exit. I can forget about long, lingering conversations over another cup of coffee. Oh, they’ll humor me and sit there, but then they might begin playing with the salt and pepper shakers or the straws from their water glasses. This year I suggested they treat me to brunch at home.

After the guys agreed to serve me brunch, I cooked up the idea of inviting my girlfriends, Judy, Gail, Sandy, and Gerry to celebrate Mother’s Day with us. Like me, the girls have all lost their mothers, but the four of them have no family close by. Gerry is Robert’s Godmother, so of course she was invited—we consider her part of our family. I promised to whip up a quiche or something and make it easy for the guys to pull it off.

When Robert and Jim agreed to the expanded brunch idea, I joked, “Would you dress up like butlers?”

Jim’s quick reply was a typical Grumpism: “Don’t press your luck.” Grump was Jim’s military call sign, and he’s still called that by his friends.

Saturday I busied myself doing some prep work for the brunch, and made a ham, mushroom and caramelized onion quiche. I cut up some fresh fruit, cleaned and trimmed some asparagus, and pulled a package of hollandaise sauce mix out of the pantry. I bought a pretty little bouquet of yellow springtime flowers, a couple of packages of mini muffins, and ironed the table linens. I called all the girls and asked each to bring a photo of her mom to place on the sideboard in my dining room.

Jim asked, “Do you think anyone will believe Robert and I did all this?”

“I’m just prepping,” I answered.

When brunch time neared, the guys were nowhere to be found. I had some last minute explanations for them about what I’d prepared and wanted to give them some suggestions for timing things. Yes, I get a little anal when entertaining.

“Where are you guys? I need to talk to you,” I called to an empty room. A few minutes later I started to panic. Knowing Jim, he could have decided to retile the bathroom or go for a thirty-minute run before brunch. I yelled again, “Where are you? You need to be in the kitchen!”

A moment later, I heard Jim call from upstairs, “We’ll be right down.” When they came into the kitchen I doubled over in laughter. They had both dug out their old tuxedo shirts and bow-ties and dressed as waiters. The girls and I loved it! They made and served our mimosas, finished preparing our brunch, and waited on us hand and foot. Of course they ate with us, but after brunch they cleared the table and cleaned up the kitchen.

We girls sat at the table for another hour and talked about our mothers. Afterward Sandy took photos of us with our moms’ pictures. It was great to celebrate Mother’s Day with my family, my friends, and best of all, to celebrate our moms again.

Donna

PS: Thanks to Sandy for the great photos.