I meant to take May off. Had a goal to avoid an extra stuff (i.e. social, church obligations, etc) so I could spend the last month of my pregnancy cleaning my home and folding itty bitty onesies and hunting for hairbows on etsy and napping. So here I am, at about 1am on the first day of June, cranking out yet another article (with several more to go before delivery day) with no time to call back friends (LaLona) or deliver a much overdue birthday gift (Jenny). Forget etsy bows. Still, I can't help but take a quick moment to journal about May, since it happens to be a special month for our family.
First, our anniversary. This year was the celebration of our fourth married year, and the second anniversary in which I was hugely pregnant. Shrug. I guess that just demonstrates that our wedding day wasn't the start of our life as a couple, but our eternity as a family.
I could go on and on about all the things I love about Michael, but I think I embarrassed him with my last post about his car so I'll lay off. I will say this: I have a crazy crush on this guy.
Our wedding day really was the best day ever. Even if our cake did fall over and the porcelain groom's head fell off (nothing a little superglue couldn't repair). Somehow I knew that after our reception, as my best friend and I ran hand-in-hand through a tunnel of guests waving sparkling fireworks, that this best day ever was about to turn into the best life ever. And it has.
We were married on Mothers Day weekend, so each year I get a double whammy celebration with the two family holidays. To be honest, this year's Mothers Day was pretty low-key. It was actually an experience a week or so before that was Mothers Day to me.
In the middle of the night, I woke up with a violent stomach virus. I won't get into the details, but it involved a bucket and it lasted for hours. Sophie woke to a very sick mommy. But bless her heart, she came into my room and so sweetly rubbed my arm and said all these soothing things like "Mommy, you not feeling good?" and "Its okay. I gotcha." I could only mumble. Later that day, after my magical morphine/phenergan/terbutaline shot from a not-so-gentle nurse at IMC, Michael took Sophie to the grocery store and came back with Sprite and a little bouquet of flowers.
As these things often turn out, a few nights later it was Sophie's turn with the virus. Middle of the pitch black, we found a sad sick girl. She lifted her weak head and the first thing she muttered? "I need flowers." I don't know what got into me, I immediately threw my boots over my pjs and went out in the pouring rain with my good sewing scissors and cut the heads right off my freshly bloomed daffodils.
I was cold and wet and covered with someone else's barf. But I was deep down happy. That's motherhood.