Remember when Tuesday was Prince Spaghetti Day - "Aaaaaanthonneeeee..." - well, every Sunday we pack up our family of six and head over to Mama's house for a helping, or two, of her homemade chicken soup.

Ever since my children (and I) could remember we would be greeted to the comforting smell of a pot of soup, that had already been cooking for hours, and all four of her grandchildren were sipping chicken soup from their teething spoons since before they could even walk - with each noodle gently mashed by Mama, herself.

I've tried to step into my mother's shoes and prepare my own Sunday dinners, from time to time, which my children have found to be objectionable.

"It's not that it's not good, Mommy - it's just not Mama's soup!"

Frankly, there have been Sundays where my husband and I felt we needed to stay home and catch up with, well, pretty much everything - inside and out.  Or, one or more of use would be ill, or just sick and tired of running about, and my mother would personally deliver plastic containers filled with soup and extra noodles.

Many parents we know have questioned our dedication to the regularity of these visits over the years, and I'd be lying if I said that each weekend was met with such enthusiasm.  But, I think back to when my grandmother was alive and preparing her own Sunday dinners for me and my twin brother.

My favorite was her chicken paprikash - she made the lightest, fluffiest dumplings that I have not been able to duplicate, yet - and her kitchen almost always smelled like fresh bread and it was a comfort to know that, no matter how busy, crazy or separated we were during the week, Sunday was a day for family.

It's been 3 years since my Mama's been gone, but I think about how much I miss her and realize that I never truly understood how precious those memories of Sundays with my Grandmother would be, until I didn't have them anymore.

So, this Mother's Day, I won't be sleeping in - my husband and I have mommies to visit, you know - I can only hope that my grandchildren will look forward to Sundays, with me, and that my children will grin and bare it, just the same.