I just gave the post that title to grab your attention. Slick, eh?
Actually, I feel like I should be writing something witty and deep about mothers.
All I can say is that if every woman who bore us: those of us reading this, those of us we love, even those of us we don’t like or understand (hello, GWB), felt at some point in their pregnancy as quickly tired as I have felt this past week… hats off to them. Deep, huh?
These were my mother’s day presents. I must start out by saying that since my honey and I are not great at planning ahead, mother’s day around here is pretty low-key. No one person gets pampered. We are too lame to make reservations anywhere. We both lamed out on gifts. That said, I did get a few gifts today.
The first one came from my cat. Domingo Perezoso (that’s the short version of his name) for the past year or so, has decided every single morning to wake me up at 4 am, so I would throw him in the bathroom. He just misses me or something. Not this morning. This morning I woke up at 6 when my son stumbled in. Son climbed into bed with us. So did cat. We all got to snuggle for a few minutes. A and I suggested Cakie make us breakfast. He did not.
The second came from my mother. (And myself.) I finalized my weekend away-without-Cakie-before-the-baby-comes! Did I mention we are not plan-aheaders? My mother is going to fly up to watch Cake along with my brother (also super-wonderful) for the weekend. How mind-blowingly wonderful is she, I ask you? We are going to stay in what seems to quite possibly be the gayest hotel evah. I’m going to get a prenatal massage in the tiny spa. We’re going to watch the sunset next to the fire pit on the roof. I’m going to drink a virgin cocktail at the lesbian-owned bar across the street. Then I’m going to try my damnedest to sleep in as late as humanly possible the next day. As starhillgirl would say, wooo and hoo!
The last one came from my honey and my Cakie and my unborn little guy. They just gave me the gift of being a mother. Without them, I would just be me. Which is ok, too.
My mom reminded me during our mother’s day chat. She said, “Remember last year when you were so torn up about trying to get pregnant?” Yes. I will never forget.
My last mother’s day note is that next year (as we say at Passover, “next year in Jerusalem”) — next year those of you who are not mothers right now, those of you who are all torn up over trying to get pregnant, are in a position to look back at this year — with one hand resting on your basketball baby belly– and say, yes. I remember. I will never forget. And then you will go back to staring at your belly button. Wondering when it will pop right out.