First Annual Mother’s Day
Posted: May 16th, 2006 | Author: kristen from motherload | Filed under: Husbandry, Miss Kate, Mom | No Comments »My first Mother’s Day has come and gone, and I realized that an unexpected by-product this year was that I didn’t mope around looking at everyone taking their mothers out to brunch and feel sorry for myself. It could be intepretted as egocentric, but be that as it may, it seemed therapeutic indulging in happiness about being a mother, rather than spending the day regretting that mine isn’t alive any more.
Generally on weekend mornings Mark and I conduct a groggy early morning bargaining session to determine who will get up with Kate. (Today’s unlucky person gets to sleep in tomorrow.) It’s a time when Mark’s midwestern upbringing leaves him at a terrible disadvantage. The conversation often goes something like this:
Kate: Waa waaa
Mark: Uhhh… Do you want to get her, or should I?
Me: Uhhhh. Um, I’ll get up. I’ll get her. It’s my turn.
Kate: Waaa waaa.
Me: Ugh…. Okay, I’ll get up in a minute.
Mark: Okay. Did you want me to just get her?
Me: Oh would you? Thank you so much, honey.
Invariably, in his half-awake state, my otherwise sharp-as-a-tack hubby reverts to the Midwestern Polite/Indecisive Conversation Format (TM). He manages to back himself into the job, even when the conversation started with me staking claim to it. Poor lamb. I lie in wait, knowing he will offer again, and when he does, I relent. I’m really just being a good wife. I don’t want to argue with my husband.
Anyway, a conversation very much like the one above took place on Saturday morning. I believe Mark had even gotten out of bed and suited up to go fetch Kate, when I explained (since I do have a heart, and it does sadden me somewhat to see him fall into my trap) that he’d also be getting up with her the next day, it being Mother’s Day. Hell if I’m waking up early that day. With that 411, he stripped down and hopped back into bed faster than you can say “return to REM cycle.” It was the closest I’d come to dodging duty, and then having to step up.
So, Sunday, I slept in. Mark made a bacony breakfast. In order to make it a dream day I hit up a few local yard sales with Kate while Mark finished concocting a fancy chicken salad. Then we packed up the Subaru and all went to Lake Anza in Tilden Park for a picnic. It was in the 80s and people were swimming. I don’t know much about lakes, but it looked like good clean fun. There was a 1950′s patina on the whole scene.
Kate clearly doesn’t get the “it’s Mother’s Day so I must treat thee like Cleopatra” thing yet. In fact, instead of changing her own diapers, taking extended naps, and just smiling prettily whenever I looked her way, she was kinda cranky.
Post-picnic I jaunted off for a hot tub and massage with my mother’s group cohort Sacha. It was part of my gift, along with some excellent cherry-pattern PJs and a scrapbook album (more on that later). But when I got back from the spa, the best Mother’s Day gift came when I rejoined my little family. Mark and Kate were on the front porch escaping the heat of the house. Kate took a look and me and absolutely lit up. She had a huge smile and was kicking her legs like she was going to jump out of her pants.
Mark, on the other hand, looked glassy-eyed and exhausted–and chagrined to see Kate being so chipper. He’d spent the better part of the 3 hours I was gone trying to get her to stop crying. Even though Mark had wanted to do all the parenting chores all day, I told him he should take a nap while I fed her. Poor guy could barely keep his eyes open.
I sat on the floor and fed Kate some summer squash puree and she bit down on the spoon with every bite. This doesn’t make for easy-going, but that day I was just loving it. It’s what *my daughter* does when she eats. What a lucky person I was. My sweet husband sacked out in bed, exhausted from putting his all into making my first Mother’s Day perfect. And my little gnawing baby, rubbing squash into her hair and eyebrows and filling her mama with love and gratitude.
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