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The Proper Mother’s Day

Marta ask that I regale you with the tale of the First Mother’s Day.  It was to be filled with hours away from baby, yoga, and massage.  Pancakes, cards, and hugs were to abound.  Some of it came true.  Many of it did not.

It started, as the majority of our mornings have started, with B announcing his displeasure long before god’s newspaper is delivered.  But this morning, it’s different and he sounds more seal than human.  Cue the parent alarms and the next hours getting him into a hot room, the humidifier, and a call first thing to the doctor.  Mr. Man has the croup, and now Mother’s Day has officially started.  What was going to be a nice Saturday away from snoring husband and Vector Zero has now turned into a regular Saturday of making gourmet baby food and keeping an eye on Wheezy.  Chores roll over and over and Saturday soon leaves us. 

I make a deal with B that Sunday will be different.  But it isn’t because he’s not a very good listener yet, and the Lawrence Family Tornado Siren calls bright and early again.   Mother’s Day has started early and cards and hugs and gifts are exchanged.  One benefit of the Early Warning B System is that it allows us to beat the Mother’s Day crush to Marta’s favorite brunch place.   We eat, drink our weight in coffee, and head to that old Lawrence hotspot – Target for more baby supplies.   So dear old Mom FINALLY gets a moment to herself on Sunday afternoon with yoga on the deck and the dirty men of the neighborhood leering over their fences and pretending to mow their lawns. 

So dear readers, the culmination of Mother’s Day arrives toward the evening when we realize we haven’t eaten anything and it’s going over 8pm.  Dad gets the grill going, forgets to close the bottom catch and proceeds to step on a white hot ember that bores a hole into his calloused foot.  The kitchen, with the aftermath of baby food production looks like a tornado cut a path from the family room to the kitchen and swept up into the baby’s room.  So dinner arrives with a burn on the bottom of the foot and burgers that are slightly cold from picking up.  After an early midnight snack, the baby gets his last bottle and the medication prescribed for his croup.  As I go to pick him up and lay him down for the night, B decides to choke and sputter, Marta grabs him and puts him on her shoulder and he throws up all down her back.  The look Marta gives is priceless as I take him back and we towel her off.  All of sudden, Marta starts to cry in laughter.  She points to the TV that is paused.  On screen is a flowery backdrop with the words “Happy Mother’s Day” in big purple script.    It was the best representation of a Mother’s Day I could imagine.  Marta gets a do-over this Saturday, but the story will live on and be retold to B as he gets older so he knows how lucky he is to have a mother as dedicated and selfless and humorous as she.

  1. May 11, 2011 at 6:57 pm

    A wonderfully-told story, Greg. Hopefully the family has filled its crazy-stuff quota for the month and things calm down until Fathers’ Day. That’s a great picture. B looks like he feels better. He certainly is a lucky little one!

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