Are we bored with the Mother’s Day posts already? Is it too late to throw my day into the hat?
Some days I see it — a light at the end of the tunnel. It’s a light at the end of a very long, some days seemingly never ending tunnel. But with that light comes a little more relaxation, a little less herding cats, a little more ease at certain logistical situations, a little more comprehension of why you cannot hit your sister over the head with a butterfly net and just keep on running…And while I know that that light is still very far off, and I’m not in any hurry to get to it, the fact that I can see it is wholly reassuring.
Mother’s Day – any holiday, really – with little kids is HARD. Especially multiple little kids. Especially especially if those kids don’t nap. No matter how special the day, someone still has to sling the applesauce, change the diapers, and load the dishwasher. My husband is wonderful at making me feel special, but he also has this incredible ability to turn a blind eye to dishes in the sink and rogue toast crusts left on the table. So on these special days just for me, I am still responsible for a few key things. He makes up for it by cleaning the toilets, the litter box, and mowing the lawn, and emptying the trash year round. I don’t know about you, but I call that a total win.
This me on my first Mother’s Day.
The girls were less than two months old and had been home from the NICU for a whopping eleven days after their five week stay. Sorry for my outfit. And my messy hair. Yes, I sleep with my mouth wide open, and it’s highly likely I’m not wearing a bra. I’m sorry you had to see that. But my point is, there wasn’t a whole lot of celebrating going on. It was really just more of the same: feeding, pumping, rocking, napping. Turns out having babies is pretty boring stuff.
And it was some version of that for the years to come, maybe a lunch out here and there but always circling back around to the ridiculous fact that we as parents don’t really get a day off from being parents. It’s just unfair, you know?
But this year…this year was the best yet. It felt indulgent. Overindulgent even.
The day started off with a bang as Christian and the girls came in to bring me breakfast and presents…at 8 am. I struggled to adjust my pillows and swallow down a grumpy WTF while the girls climbed all over me, screaming cheerful greetings that hurt my sleepy eardrums. A few bites into my (delicious! and made with love!) breakfast, Christian interrupted me.
“Um, yeah, I’m stupid. I thought it was 9. It’s 8.”
Of course I knew this. The clock was the first thing I looked at when they bounded into the room. “Yes. Yes it is.”
“I was wondering why you were having such a hard time waking up. So um, finish up there and then go back to sleep if you want.”
There are many reasons why I love this man, but his planning abilities are not one of them.
So I laid in bed for an hour more not sleeping because the show the kids were watching had a wicked baseline that made me think the neighbors were having a frat party at 8:30 am on a Sunday. I figured I’d rather get up and enjoy some coffee than lay there pissed that I couldn’t sleep.
No biggie. I can sleep in any time, really. I wanted to get the day started because we had our second annual Mother’s Day hike planned at the Wild Basin Perserve. Second annual meaning that we started it last year on a whim. Thanks to a cooler spring than usual, the weather here in Austin has been unbelievable (it’s usually pool worthy by now)(and OMG I’m talking about the weather. Someone save this post, stat.).
The girls were amazing. 5 is my new favorite age. And even though Zoe’s 3 is pretty challenging, she’s kind of like a 5 year old in a 3 year old’s body. Everyone was excited about hiking and adventures and finding the waterfall and making leaf rubbings in our journals, which we didn’t even do because when you’re trekking through the wilderness with three kids, the last thing you want to do is stop so everyone can bust out their art supplies. Maybe next year.
5 is also the age where you threaten your kids into behaving because they’re ruining your Mother’s Day, and they really want you to have a nice one. You may even be able to convince them that your “Mother’s Day meter” is going down the more they whine and argue.
Then there was the agonizing last quarter mile, where we were sure to perish because we’re never going to make it back to the car, Mom, I don’t care how OMGsoclose we are. But the good thing about taking longer than expected hikes is that you get to then go gorge yourself on gourmet doughnuts from an air stream trailer, go home for a nap, then head to Kerbey Lane, aka “the breakfast store” for migas and cinnamon roll pancakes for dinner.
This is probably also not the best time to remind myself that I am NOT training for a half marathon anymore (although my Mother’s Day gift was a sweet pink Garmin!), and NOT running 25+ miles a week, so I probably shouldn’t EAT like I am still burning 1200 calories in a single afternoon. This is probably also not the best time to show you the INSANE chocolate and mini M&M covered strawberries that Christian and the girls picked out for me. Have you ever bitten through three inches of candy to get to a strawberry? I have.
To the new moms, the old moms, the moms to be, and the moms at heart, I hope you had a lovely day, from one often overwhelmed mom to another.