This is my 15th Mother’s Day as a mother. Without a doubt, my most memorable Mother’s Day was four years ago when my parents decided to come to Vermont for the weekend so we could “celebrate” together. Mother’s and Father’s Days have always been high on my mother’s list of important holidays.

Feeling generally overwhelmed by the frenzy of every day life as a mother, planning ahead was a thing of the past. So about a week before the big day, I started calling for reservations. I’d heard about the brunch buffet at the Inn at Essex and thought that sounded like a special way to commemorate my life as a mother. The person on the other end of the phone politely told me that they’d been solidly booked for months! The story was the same wherever I called.

My children were visibly disappointed. They were looking forward to the food orgy I had promised. I looked at their sad faces and knew we had to do something different. I suggested we make brunch at home. They rolled their eyes. What was unusual about that?

“We’ll make it really special!” I promised. “We can make a menu like in a real restaurant!” Playing restaurant was a popular game at my house. The kids liked to “write” the orders, serve the (pretend) food and, of course, present the (outrageous) checks. So, with this suggestion, their disappointed expressions transformed and they sprang in to action.

We discussed the food and agreed on pretty standard brunch selections: omelets, French toast, pancakes and an appropriate variety of meats, and their enthusiasm mounted. The Mother’s Day Café was born.

The kids rushed to the computer, designed and printed a menu. I was amazed at how much they knew! The full color trifold carte was complete with the café’s offerings, address (including a map!), graphics, hours (open once a year). The only thing that was missing was prices (“All menu items are free to mothers or anyone accompanying them.”)

We shopped for all the ingredients and planned our “grand opening.” We agreed on our respective roles and decided that it would be fun to let my parents believe we were going out to one of our area’s fine dining establishments.

My parents arrived Saturday evening. After the children were settled in bed – and my parents were dozing in front of the television on the sofa – I went to work. I set the dining room table with my grandmother’s good china and did whatever preparation I could the night before.

In the morning the kids and I were up early. My parents dressed up for our celebration and as they descended the stairs they were greeted by the maitre d’, namely my 11-year-old son. The waitress (my 9-year-old daughter) greeted their confusion at the table, presented their menus and served the juice and coffee. I was camped out in the kitchen ready to resurrect my college stint as a short-order cook.

The entire event was a huge success. Meals were cooked to order; the sous chefs garnished each plate with strawberries; and nobody left the “café” hungry.

After the last dish was done (did I mention that grandmother’s china wasn’t dishwasher safe?), I realized how exhausted I was! No, that Mother’s Day was not the most relaxing or peaceful I’ve had as a mother. But it was the most memorable. My children and I had a common goal, and we worked together with harmony and a little mischief. Every few months my souvenir copy of The Mother’s Day Café menu rises to the top of the perennial pile and I smile. It’s a reminder of all the best things about being a mother.