I had a nice Mother’s Day yesterday.
I had the day off from church—it was Youth Sunday, and Senior Pastor and I alternate taking off the “special” Sundays. So I slept until 8, when R brought in the newspaper. Then I dozed/read until 8:30 when the girls brought in breakfast—eggs, homemade biscuits and strawberries.
C gave me the same gift as last Mother’s Day—a HUGE bottle of Aveda Rosemary Mint shampoo that last year got me all the way to Christmas. I think we have a tradition now.
Then I decided to visit Tiny Cute Church, which just got an interim pastor and has a lovely, 90-member congregation and a 3/4 time pastoral position coming open that I am irrationally coveting these days. (That, and the 11 a.m. worship time [10 a.m. Sunday School].)
Later in the afternoon we went to Park Where The Planes Take Off Overhead, which was fun for all ages. R had grilled hotdogs, which we packed up with potato salad, apples, and brownies.
C kept bringing me wildflowers weeds she found scattered throughout the field. Then M, who wants to be like her big sister in every single way, started bringing me stuff too. I accepted the gravel and cigarette butts gratefully.
I had a near-Bad Mommy Moment. There was a bike path around the park, which C did a good job of navigating. One time though, while my back was turned (R was watching from a greater distance), she apparently waited, waited, waited for an oncoming cyclist, then walked out onto the path just as he was coming near. He had to slam on his brakes. I scooped her up and carried her back to the blanket fully prepared to chew her out, but on my way back I remembered hearing somewhere that kids at this age are really bad at gauging distances. They will wait and wait for cars that are blocks away and then will dart out when the car gets dangerously close. So when we got back to the blanket I just held her on my lap and told her that I should have been watching her, helping her figure out when it was safe to go. I could tell she was totally flummoxed because she thought she was in trouble.
OK, so I score one whole mommy point for the day. Two, if you count the cigarette butts. Which I’m not sure you should.
9 Responses to “mother’s day”
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Asides
» I have been remiss in posting SBJ’s latest stats: 23 pounds and 27 inches at six months. Yes, I’ve got the big mama biceps.
» Aaaaaand little she-who-is lost another tooth this week!
» SBJ is four months old, 19 pounds 5 ounces, and 26 inches tall. GIGANTOR!
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How many were there?
Sounds like a great day!
Sounds like a very sweet day. You are such a great mom.
I think you should count the cigarette butts.
Oh…I love this. Cigarette butts and gravel. Priceless.
Glad C is safe. Those are scary moments.
You are a great Mom! Happy Mother’s Day (belated).
Experienced cyclists know you don’t pass at full speed in front of pigeons, seagulls, or toddlers. You either go behind them or you slow way
way
way
down.
And even then, the toddlers will getcha.
simple gifts, simply given…ponder them all in your heart, RM. Parenting is a long haul of joys, sorrows and in-betweens - you are navigating faithfully, you and R and grands - blessings on your ongoing journey.
I wasn’t grateful, but the proffered “What dis?” object that turned out to be a sticky booger was accepted and put aside without comment.
Daddy point.
Check!
In our house, we have “dis,” and we have complex sentences, and nothing in between. And the in between is one of my favorite times. Aw.
We’re in the in-betweens. I think my favorites so far are “A bug is walking!” (upon spying a cockroach on the ceiling) and “Daddy hot!” (upon palpating my face yesterday; half of us are midway through the fever portion of the hacking zombie chest cold the other half of us are mostly over).
It’s also toddler-hilarious to switch each other’s names around. “Are you Mommy? You’re Mommy!” “Ha ha! Mommy!”
Although when I say “Are you Sheepy?” he just says “Baaa.”