I haven’t touched my email in three days. I haven’t even checked it. And the world hasn’t stopped.  In fact, I’m more in touch with reality than ever.  Just a step outside my bedroom door life abounds.

We built our retirement house for the two of us.  We took into consideration that we wanted to be able to host overnight guests and family visits.  But just two years into full-time occupancy, we have a rapidly expanding family.  So we are a bit space challenged when everyone comes together.  But I can’t imagine farming them out to hotels.  And fortunately, they are all good sports about it.  So far.  I call it “making memories.”

For Thanksgiving weekend we shoehorned 9 family members into the house. Including 2 little people.  On the sleeping scale the little peeps weigh in on the light side, cocooning in narrow crevices on our backpacking sleep mats. Any other way you measure it, they tend to dominate.  Especially on an energy and volume level.  But to me, they are happy messes.  Happy noises.

There is nothing better than being surrounded by family.  Everyone pitching in.  Big family meals.  Piling into a van to go to a movie.  Breakfast around the kitchen island. Laying down Brio train track. Running to the grocery store for yet more milk.  Playing card games late into the evening.  Who cares about email?

I’m a proud mama and happy to see our kids making their way in this big world.  But I still love nothing more than having them come home.  Especially when they all come at once.  No matter that we’re a bit squished.  This is more than a happy houseful.  It’s an overflowing heart full.

Mothers’ Day evokes memories of those hectic years raising young children.  The sloppy kisses, hand made cards and the great Fishing-Opener-Mothers-Day weekends at the cabin are all part of my Mothers’ Day repertoire of happy memories.

But what is even more rewarding is to see it continue into adulthood.  As my children have grown into adults, our relationship has naturally changed.  They are all out own their own now, but we still enjoy each others’ company.  In addition to the usual family gatherings, I’ve been extremely grateful to be able to share some special times together with each of my children.

In this case, I think pictures speak better than words.

Karen inherited my love of running, and we fulfilled a collective dream running the Boston Marathon together, crossing the finish line holding hands.

Canoeing in the Boundary Waters is one of Carl’s passions – we spent 4 great days together on a mother-son canoe trip.

Erik taught me to skate ski, which led me to take up marathon ski races – here we are before the start of the Mora Vasaloppet.

I have my own mother to thank for the same relationship.  Thinking back, one of the best things I ever did was to join her on a theater trip to London.  It seemed extravagant at the time, leaving my husband and family to fend for themselves while Mom and I traveled together.  But it was worth every mother-daughter minute.

Being a Mom never ends.  I look forward to many more years of special times and adventures with my children and now grandchildren.  I’m so glad it’s a forever thing.

Some things can't be orchestrated. They happen in their own time. When all the stars align. Today was one of those days.

We've been with Dad Hoeg for a week now, making sure his recovery stays on track. He honestly doesn't need us for much. We're mostly an insurance policy at this point, and we try to keep him company. I've done my best to plant leading questions and gently probe some family history, but all to no avail. He stays mum.

But after lunch Dad's tongue finally loosened. Something triggered a story, and before we knew it another followed. He got on a roll and was unstoppable. No need for us to encourage him, he had plenty of fascinating material. It didn't matter that some stories recycled within minutes, or that unrelated topics were spun together. Two hours later, we were still at the table with our dirty dishes in front of us – an unheard of transgression in a household where everything is tidied up immediately. But no one cared, and we were still listening intently.

I commenced making a batch of cookies thinking Dad was winding down, but no. He kept me company with more tales throughout the baking process. It was an afternoon of insight and delight. I happily abandoned my usual afternoon bike ride so as not to miss anything.

We took Dad to a pizzaria for dinner tonight. On the walls were pictures of New York City, baseball players and other memorabilia. That sent Dad down another trail of stories. We were fascinated as he related tales of the famous people he had treated or met during his many years of medical practice. I never knew that he had crossed paths with Judy Garland, or that Babe Ruth had been treated at the Duluth Clinic.

The whole mood of our visit was transformed today. While previously each day seemed so long and we wondered just how to fill it, this day flew by. We were taken on a number of journeys and privy to Dad's brush with the aristocracy and a life style of yesteryear. It was past 10pm by the time we all headed to bed – shockingly late for Dad.

Storytelling is a gift. And we were the grateful recipients today.