This holiday holds a few different meanings for me.
The obvious: A three-day weekend that gives our family one more day to spend together.
The intended: The people who work all those jobs that we may take for granted. Which leads me to think about my father who passed away two years ago. He was a truck driver. I know that many people don't like being close to big rigs on the highway but we all like that there is laundry detergent, toilet paper, etc., at the local supermarket. Without those big rigs and the people who drive them those convenient items wouldn't be on the store shelves. So let's give those truck drivers on the highway a break and some space on the road. They're just trying to get home to their families, too.
The special: Once I became a pregnant woman, Labor Day took on a whole new meaning. Especially on Labor Day three years ago. Sure, we had a nice three-day weekend enjoying the warm and sunny weather. A mere 24 hours later we were experiencing the endurance challenge that is child birth. A short challenge, luckily. I was sent to the hospital around noon for observation on one of their monitors and a little after 4:30pm The Incredible Digit Boy was born. He was definitely in a hurry to get out into the world. That attitude hasn't changed. He still is in hurry to go everywhere and we, his parents, wish the time would go slower.