It’s funny – when I’m at work, in my cube, with my earbuds in, people have no clue that what I’m usually listening to is the score from “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” (oh, and the other seven films too). I don’t really mention it. I’m fairly new at my job and I don’t want to freak people out…with how cool I am.  There’s just something about Harry Potter music that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and ready to work!

I think it reminds me of that time, you know, before.  Before sleepless nights. Before boogers. Before planning your morning departure to (what you think is) a tee, only to have your finally on-time schedule foiled by the sudden smell of a poopy diaper, which turns your “Yay! We’re leaving five minutes early!” to “You’ve gotta be %$#*ing kidding me! We should have left ten minutes ago!” It reminds me of Sunday afternoons when Hubs and I would put on our comfy-cozies (as I like to call them) and snuggle on the couch before falling asleep to one of a few select “nap time” movies. Harry Potter was our go-to. We’ve nearly worn out the DVD, which is great because now we can get it in Bluray.

Before.

I’ve been thinking about Mothers Day and came to the realization that I don’t really want a spa day, or jewelry, or clothes, or even breakfast in bed. I want Harry. The way I used to have him. Uninterrupted, in my sweats, with a bag of chips in one hand, a diet Pepsi in the other. Yes, I want to sleep with Harry Potter…with him on my television screen, yelling “Stupefy!” and Hermione rolling her eyes before shrugging, “oculus reparo” while pointing her wand at Harry’s broken glasses for the millionth time.  Wait. Does that make it a three-way if Hermione is involved?  Well, then by golly, I want a three-way. Heck, I want Voldy and the whole fleet of dementors too. I want them all to lull me into an actual nap, the likes of which I haven’t had in about 22 months.

Here’s what I really want for Mothers Day:

Hubs: “Good morning! You are such a good mommy. Here, why don’t I take the boy while you watch parts one and two of ‘Deathly Hallows.’ We’ll completely detail your car while you eat these [pulls out bag of Cool Ranch Doritos]. Enjoy, sweet woman-without-whom-we-cannot-live.”

Me: “Why…that sounds delightful! Make sure you get under the seats. There’s a fork under there and an old Belvita breakfast cookie…and a bunch of goldfish crackers. Oh, can you also get rid of the rotten smell from that sippy cup that’s still in the console with three-week old milk in it? I keep forgetting to bring it in to wash. Thanks hon.”

See. It really doesn’t take much to make me feel appreciated. This is a no-cost gift to boot (except the Doritos).

So fellas and kids, you don’t have to spend a lot of money for your momma. You just have to be thoughtful. Sometimes thoughtfulness includes leaving someone completely alone for just five or more minutes. Sometimes it means cleaning out the clogged drain that smells, that she’s been asking to be cleaned out for three months. Maybe its doing the laundry and matching every. last. sock. like she takes the time to do. Could be a simple foot rub and a nice glass of wine. Whatever thoughtful gift you choose, I promise you’ll find that Mommy will be refreshed in mind and spirit, and so happy to see you afterward that you’ll swear she never really wanted you to leave her alone in the first place.

The truth is, if I got my Harry Potter three-way wish, I probably wouldn’t be able to fall asleep the way I used to. I’d probably be thinking about half way through, “Hmmm. Sure is quiet in here. I wonder what Hubs and Bubbalooshki Bear are doing right now.” I’d pause the movie and call them, and think about all the worthwhile things I could be doing (like sorting out our winter clothes for storage, or playing funny-faces with Bubbalooshki) instead of wasting my time watching a movie all by myself.  Because what I’ve found out about being a mom is that “before” is, well…before. I’ve never really been able to get back to that place. Our lives always seem to be rushing by in a blur. There are few moments of just doing nothing, and if there are, they are peppered with statements like, “Did you set your alarm? Don’t forget you have to pay the daycare tomorrow.”

Moments of doing nothing are limited to quiet time at night while rocking a toddler to sleep. Yes, I still rock him to sleep. Every night. And after a period of about 15 minutes of struggle, (including, but not limited to: small fingers being poked up my nose, farting and laughing, and feet kicking me in the face) the toddler quiets down, his flailing limbs grow still, and his eyes close. So I spend my do-nothing time staring at his pudgy feet and trying to remember the details of how his soft hair feels and the sound of toddler breath.

When I wrote in a post nearly two years ago about the moment they put my son in my arms for the first time, I said:

“And suddenly, I’m not me anymore.  There was the “before” Chris.  Now I am the “after” Chris.  And, I’ll never go back.”

And I’m totes ok with that.