My mom stayed at my place on and off a few summers ago.

One day, when she arrived, I didn’t really have time to talk, as I was working from home and helping manage 40 New England-based early education centers. So, she flashed me a handwritten note while I worked through back-to-back calls:

I brought tomatoes from the garden. I’ll make us tomato sandwiches and salad for lunch. Ok?

I gave her a thumbs up.

Hours later, I emerged from the office and found a lovely plated lunch of tomato two ways. My mom was sitting outside in my hammock reading a book. I called to her from the kitchen window:

“Thank you so much. Did you already eat?”

She came rushing in, shaking her head.

“Are you done for the day?” she asked.

“No, but I have twenty minutes when I don’t need to be on a call.”

“Great, I waited to make my lunch to chat while you ate.”

Then, I saw her reach for the remainder of the garden tomatoes. Two of which I knew from growing up with the garden were probably 100% fine but looked super funky. I brought my attention back to my plate, which was clearly made with only the finest and ripest-looking bounty.

I cried a little.

“Mum, you’re still giving me the good tomato.”

She looked a little confused.

At this point, I was 40, and my son had just turned 10. I was remarkably aware of how many times, as a mom, I gave him the first bite, the last bite, the good piece, the best color, or the favorite flavor of anything…of everything.  

So much time had passed, and my mom had so many more kiddos (I’m the first of her four daughters), and still, here she was, instinctually, habitably giving me the first, the good, and the best.

Knowing I’m on the receiving end of unconditional Mum-love really does make everything better.

This is Briggs and me a few days before actual Christmas, when we took my Mom, “Omi” out for what will now be our traditional “First Christmas” – a dinner out in late December with Omi’s first-borns (first daughter and first grandson – my Mom only has daughters and grandsons. :))