To quote Ice Cube, "It Was a Good Day"

So, today is Mother's Day. I've been a mother for over 5 years now. Not an expert, but I can change a diaper with the best of them. It's the greatest, hardest, most rewarding and frustrating job I've ever had. My 2 boys can make me laugh and cry, at the same time, all day every day. They are the best things to ever happen to me.

Today started out just like any other day. My 2-year-old woke me up by yelling "MOMMMMAAAAYYY" (that's what it sounds like anyway) from his crib at 7:30. But, unlike the other days of the week, my wonderful husband got him so I could sleep in. Score!

I came downstairs to find presents, coffee, and my favorite bagels waiting for me. I received homemade Mother's Day cards, iTunes gift cards (which is still the greatest gift you can ever get me), and a charm for my bracelet. Was it my birthday? Or am I dying? I'm not saying I don't appreciate Mother's Day. But, I would've been happy with just a homemade card (and iTunes gift card, if I'm honest), so this was a nice surprise.

I promised my mother we'd go to church today. It was all she wanted for Mother's Day, so I figured it was the least we could do. Church went off without a hitch (read: without my boys yelling, fighting with their cousin and/or running up and down the aisle). At one point, my 2-year-old pointed up at the picture of Jesus and my mother informed him that it was Jesus, to which he responded, "Yeah, I like him." Honestly, that could've gone either way with a 2-year-old, so I'm glad he chose to like Jesus (there were people around us, listening, after all).

After the service, we all filed out of the church. When my mother is around, no one else exists for the boys (until my sister is home, of course). So, truth be told, I tend to pay less attention because they're with my mother and I know they're safe if they're with my mother.

Until today.

We were ready to leave, doing a head count, when we realized no one had my 2-year-old. He's never very far away, even when he does wander off, so I didn't panic at first. But, there were a lot of people filing out of the church and he very easily could have been shuffled out with the crowd. He wasn't anywhere around us.

This is the hard part of being a mother. Fear. Pain. Loss. It was a small feeling at first. We were at church, after all - bad things don't happen at church. But then my mind wandered. I pictured some crazy lady who had just lost a baby, taking my sweet little boy (I have watched too many Lifetime movies, obviously). I quickly walked down the hallway towards the reception hall. I had a death grip on my 5-year-old, even though he knows better to run from me.

Nothing.

He wasn't where I thought I'd find him and my heart? Was beating a little faster at this point.

Finally, I came to another hallway, where I found him. Sweet relief. And heartbreak. He was more terrified than I was. He had his arms wrapped around himself, crying. Some nice older lady was trying to talk to him, but he's 2. He doesn't even know his last name, much less that his mother's name is anything other than "Mommy" (or "MOMMMMAAAAYYY" for that matter). I scooped him up, suffocated him, and promptly told him to never do that to me again. And he was probably thinking, "ME do that to YOU? You're the one who left ME, crazy woman!"

Anyway, even after all that, I am grateful to be a mother. It's nice to have a day created special for mothers, but for me, every day I have my boys is special to me.

Even when they scare the crap out of me.