Happy Mother's Day, Ben and Sam!

Thank you, Mary Jane, for putting the link to Tucker and Brad's Mother's Day YouTube clip on your Facebook page. I watched it and laughed so hard that I had tears running down my face. I watched it again and had the same response. I showed it to Warren and he laughed so hard he had tears running down his face. I showed it to my coworker Ed and he laughed so hard he had tears running down his face. (Type in "Mother's Day baratsandbereta" at YouTube to see it.)

It is one funny clip. For those of us who have only sons, it is Life.

It's Mother's Day this weekend and my thoughts turn to my sons, Ben and Sam, who are the reasons I get to claim this holiday as my own. So in honor of the upcoming day, I thought I'd write about the experience of being their mother.

Ben is the older of the two. He is the firstborn, he is the one whose every word, step, gesture, and milestone was duly noted and celebrated. Like many firstborn children, he was more often in the company of adults than other children and his vocabulary and play habits reflected it.

Ben was almost four when I became pregnant a second time, and four and a half when Sam was born. Oh, how we anticipated and planned for the arrival of the new baby! Ben and I read books about new babies and books about being a big brother. We talked at length about babies and their needs. We bought toys for the new baby. We painted watercolor after watercolor of the baby inside me. For a time, Ben walked around with his little belly jutted way out in front of him just like mom did. There were special presents set aside for the day Ben became a big brother.

We. Were. Ready.

Sam arrived two weeks late on what would be an impossibly hot day anywhere but in Stockton, California. Ben came to the hospital with Grandma to see his new brother and help bring him home. There are pictures of Ben holding Sam for the first time, his face glowing with pride. When asked about Sam, Ben would say "that's my brother," with a heavy emphasis on the my.

In short, Ben was the ideal big brother and had made the transition from only child to older child remarkably smoothly. Well, right up until about the two weeks mark, when Ben leaned against my knee and calmly asked "mommy, would you be sad if the baby died?"

As Ben and Sam grew, they went through a long, sustained period of alliances, warfare, and truces. International politics had nothing on the dealings of my sons. Ben, a stickler for rules, was outraged when, in the middle of a croquet game, Sam (then about 2) would calmly pick up his ball and realign it for a cleaner angle through the nearest wicket. Likewise, Sam would be infuriated when Ben would pull rank and eject Sam from his room and the action in front of Ben's friends. Sometimes Sam would get so angry that he would erupt into a whirlwind of shouts and fists, pummeling Ben and then running away (Sam could always outrun Ben). It was a love/hate relationship at its best for a long time.

But time marches on and boys grow older, and my two as they grew up found a new level of friendship and closeness. Several events pulled them together: their parents' disintegrating marriage and eventual separation and divorce, my illness. Just the sheer passage of time pulled them together, for they discovered they had a lot of common interests after all. When Ben went away to college, Sam was bereft. When Sam recently decided to move out to Oregon, Ben was jubilant.

I have had my moments with both of them: shining moments, heartbreaking moments, funny moments, upsetting moments. For almost 23½ years, they have made me what I am: Mom.

A deliberately childless friend more than once questioned me as to the "worth" of having children: they took up time, they were expensive, they got into trouble. All true. My boys have been expensive and time-consuming. Musical instruments add up, as do bicycles and books. Practices of all sorts eat up hours. They have gotten into trouble, sometimes serious, they have wrecked cars (well, Sam has, as Ben does not drive), they have caused me to break down and cry on more than one occasion. They have also made me laugh, made me swell with pride, and made me grateful to be Mom to them time and time again. The summer I was sickest, they took care of the house and one another while I underwent treatment in Cleveland, and then took care of me when I returned.

I would not trade away one minute of it for any price.

Happy Mother's Day, Ben and Sam.

Later added note: When I first posted this on the Friday before Mother's Day, I had predicted that I would not hear from my sons on the day itself. I wrote: My sons are unlikely to even remember the day, let alone call (they both live in Oregon now). Forget a card. Ben and Sam are great guys, but holiday communications outside of Christmas (both) and my birthday (Sam only) rank low on their respective priority lists. I am pleased to note that, as has been the case more than once with my boys, I was wrong. Sam called and we talked; Ben called my cell phone and left a message. (Use the land line next time, big guy.) Thank you, guys!