Mother's Day

I tried to reflect on what Mother’s Day means to me now that I am one, but I was pretty freaking tired at 1 am. I haven't taken medication for my insomnia since Sam was born, because he wakes up a couple of times during the night, and I want to be alert for that. Now that his sleep time is stretching out longer and longer, though, I think I'll have to go back. I have Husband snoring on my left and Baby snoring on my right. Not conducive to slumber.

Last year on Mother’s Day, Beloved got me a card telling me that I would be a wonderful mother someday. I was pregnant then, but we didn’t know it yet.

This year he made me a card with photographs of us with Sam, bought me a bouquet of daisies and yellow rosebuds, lots of Reese’s Big Cups (chocolate peanut butter goodness) and is making me a carrot cake (my favorite).

The television commercials for Mother’s Day gifts are nearly as crazy as Christmas (though with not as long a run). Jewelry, flowers, clothes, any sort of “feminine” gift is forced into our faces, working on our affections (and guilt if we were born with rather large heads). Ah, consumerism.

I had the whole day to do whatever I wanted, which was merely to be with Beloved and Baby.

So there were no fancy gifts, and it was perfect. Had my husband gotten me a diamond necklace, or a giant basket of pricey fragranced things and not woken me up gently at 10.30 am with a card placed on the pillow beside me and spent the entire day doting on me, it would not have been nearly as special. Not even close.

To anyone this applies to: Happy Belated Mother’s Day!