Mother’s Day

For a mommy blogger, the Mother’s Day post is imperative. How did it go? What did you get? All questions I’ve heard several times today. Well, here’s a little recap.

50% of my children can talk. The talking population spent a lot of time whining today and the non talking party spent a lot of time screeching and flashing the neighbors through our slider door. It was one of the loudest days I’ve had in recent memory.

I got to sleep in, so that’s a major plus. I may have had a teensy weensey bit too much champagne last night. And after that I had a couple glasses of wine. So, after I slept in until 8am, I took a nap at 9. Any day meant for celebration in my honor includes a nap, so Justin was not surprised about this at all. He was, in fact, surprised when I announced at 4pm that I would be taking a second nap. He raised his eyebrows and I explained that I’d have to wait a whole year to get to take two naps in one day so I was going to take full advantage of the situation.

In the short hour or so that I was awake this morning, I received some lovely gifts (earrings, necklace, and bracelet) from my family, plus a sweet card. Justin made me breakfast complete with heart shaped watermelon slices. He does rock.

We made one major mistake; a mistake no seasoned parents should ever make. We made plans during Harrison’s nap time. The immediate effects were not detrimental, but the long term outcome resulted in some ridiculous hysteria.

Following his extremely late and interrupted nap time, Harrison woke up requesting chips. But since we were eating chips outside and not inside in front of the tv, chips were thrown in disgust.

At dinner time, the little guy was having difficulty getting steak on his fork. This is only after he served two time outs for refusing to sit at the dinner table. The steak seemed to be the last straw, and I very nearly lost an eye to a flailing fork. Luckily, I still have my eyes, and Harrison managed to eat some dinner.

After dinner, while we were snuggling on the couch, Harrison was counting his fingers. He exclaimed that he had eight fingers. When I recounted with him using my own hands, he adamantly disagreed and insisted that HE only had eight. OK buddy. Some arguments I’m not going to win tonight. butyouhaveten.

We thought we were home free when we put the kids to bed. Silly us. Harrison spent a lot of time babbling and whining about being in bed, and at one point I sent Justin in to check on him. It turns out there was a particle of sand on his foot, a remnant from our trip to the beach this afternoon, which was causing him angst. Like any intelligent, yet manipulative toddler, he found several other things to demand of his daddy during this visit, including but not limited to, leaving the light on, more water, a snack, and his momma. The only request that was granted was his momma.

His momma. He wanted his momma. And, although my children were mildly obnoxious throughout the day, it was knowing I am needed by my son at the end of the day that makes this day what it is. It was him singing “Happy Birthday” when I walked out of my bedroom (well, there’s no “Happy Mother’s Day” song, so he had to improvise), it was Ella sitting on my lap at the beach carrying on a one-sided conversation of indiscernible babble. It was the dandelions that my boy picked and proudly presented to me. It was holding tiny hands, slobbery kisses, and belly laughs. It was a husband who loves me unconditionally, with whom I get the privilege to be a parent. Happy Mother’s Day.

Author: livefromtimeout

I am a stay at home mom of two vivacious toddlers, ages one and three. When I'm not refereeing, I like to workout and drink wine. But not at the same time.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s