Jack turned two on Sunday, and that was poor planning, wasn't it? Turning two on Mother's Day? Which is why we had his party on Saturday. Like I am going to SHARE Mother's Day.

I can't believe I have a two-year-old, you guys. I mean, when we were discussing this whole baby thing, my daydreams never got past, oh, nine months. Walking? Talking? And (heaven help me) potty training? Yeah, never thought about it.

But now I have a TWO-YEAR-OLD who is proving all the scary two-year-old rumors true, and he's officially kicked me out of New Mom territory. His second birthday also means I no longer get to use "two under two" as an excuse for... everything. Like the state of the house, the fact that we don't go anywhere, the eyebrows that have needed waxing for over a YEAR, etc. My go-to excuse is no longer valid and I find that incredibly perplexing. What will I say now?

I don’t know why the United Nations gets itself all up in a twist; I have found the simple and certain key to world peace. Are you ready for it?

It’s a room full of four year olds singing Skidamarink-a-Dinky-Dink.

It’s true. It’s biologically, chemically impossible to witness this type of thing and retain a single negative emotion in your head. I know this, because I stopped by my daughter’s preschool class on Thursday for their annual Mother’s Day breakfast. The four-year-olds had been hard at work for weeks, learning songs and making crafts to share with their moms.

When I flew by myself last month, I scored a seat in the emergency exit row, with all of its leg room and responsibility.

The flight attendant came by to make sure I could lift the 50-pound door.

"I'm a mother,'' I said. "I could lift a 3,000-pound car if I needed to.''

I believe that.

Dear Mother's Day,

It appears I cannot give my mother a nice scarf or a good book or a lunch out -- as the mother of her grandchildren I am required to be CRAFTY. Please note, Mother's Day, I do not have a crafty bone in my body. All previous attempts at craftiness ended up in the trash, down the disposal or burned in the fireplace. I feel this obligatory handmade grandchild gift sets too high a standard, especially since the grandchildren have yet to even master a crayon. Have pity on me, Mother's Day. What about a nice geranium, hmm?

Nervously,
Maggie

This Sunday is Mother’s Day -- a day when many moms around the country will be eating burnt toast or cherishing noodle art creations made by their very own children. I vividly remember the mornings when my brother, sister, and I would make breakfast for our own mom and serve her like the queen we saw her as. Most years, that also involved at least one of us climbing into bed with her and eating most of the food. I remember proudly giving her the homemade card and project I made so happily for her. You would think I was giving her diamonds by the hugs I received.