Joy the Baker

My Mom used to crawl in the bed at night, after a long day of being a mail carrier, a wife and mother and exclaim “Best part of the day!” just before she drifted off to sleep.  To her,  it seemed like there was no greater reward that peaceful rest at the end of the day.

As a kid, I had a hard time relating to my Mom’s Ode to Bedtime.  I was sure that I could have, at the very least, squeezed one more episode of The Cosby Show into my night.  Nope.  Bedtime was bedtime, not because there were overly strict bedtime rules, but because my Mom was just dog tired.

Nowadays I feel like I have a better understanding of my Mom’s nighttime sentiments.  My head hits the pillow after a long day and I’m asleep before I can even turn the bedside lamp off… and I don’t even have little kids yet!

You were right Momma.  Sometimes crawling under the covers is the best part of the day.

Other times, quiche is the best part of the day.  True.

In exciting, not sleepy or quiche related news:  my Mom, after over 30 years of delivering mail, retires from the Post Office… today!  Holy heck Mom!  Way to go!  Thanks for working hard for the family all those years.   I couldn’t be happier for you.  I hope you find a new “best part of the day”.  For reals, I love you Mom!

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