Mother's Day

So Sunday was my first official Mother's Day. Last year I was about 5 months pregnant on Mother's Day and just starting to show, so I did end up getting a few "Happy Mother's Day" wishes, but I really don't think they are merited until you can actually hold your child in your arms. Back then Baby M was not even known as Baby M yet. At the time I was still trying to convince my husband that North was the perfect name for our firstborn son. Does everyone go through that "unique" name phase? Thankfully I came to my senses and didn't end up as an entry on Baby's Named A Bad Bad Thing.

Last year I made brunch reservations for us and both sets of grandparents at Shanghai Red's in Marina Del Rey. It is normally a very nice restaurant, but the Mother's Day Brunch was a complete mad-house. I waited in line 20 minutes for a waffle, got elbowed over the last piece of salmon and was vomited on in the restroom. I was expecting this year to be substantially better, but I got a little worried on Saturday night when my husband said to me, "I think I'm in trouble. I forgot that you're a mom." I was shocked. Most days I feel like all I am is a mom, what with all the feeding and diapering and bathing, etc. It is actually sort of comforting to know that my husband sees me as more than just Baby M's mother. On the other hand, it would be nice to know that he recognizes how much work it takes to care for Baby M.

Well, my husband and Baby M stepped up and surprised me on Sunday morning with breakfast in bed. They had loaded up a tray with orange juice, flowers, 3 greasy breakfast sandwiches and hash-browns from Jack-in-the-Box. (Three because they didn't know which one I liked, not because I'm a glutton.) Fast food breakfast sandwiches are one of my guilty pleasures, along with Gossip Girl and old George Michael ballads, so I couldn't have been happier. My husband even signed the card "Baby M" proving that my blog has at least 1 reader. All in all it was a lovely Mother's Day.

Mom or Man?

A few months ago a friend of mine with 2 small sons said to me, "Do you ever wish you lived with your mom instead of your husband?" At the time I looked at her a bit quizzically. I mean, I love my mom and all, but there is only so much re-hashing of Dancing With the Stars that I can take and besides, I'm married to a pretty cool guy. But after spending a week at my parent's house while my husband was on a business trip I totally get it.

It was great. My mom came and got Baby M when he was crying inconsolably at 5AM. She cleaned up after he spit peas all over the dining room. She held him so I could try on more than one pair of jeans at the mall. Plus she did all the normal mom stuff like cooking dinner and doing my laundry. Not once did she "dress" the baby and then claim not to notice the unsnapped onesie crotch flaps flopping around on top of Baby M's pants. I don't think I truly appreciated my mom until I became a parent myself. And after a week of having her mother me and Baby M the lumpy scarf I knit for her as a Mother's Day gift seems woefully inadequate.

Now that I'm back home I find being alone with Baby M for 11 hours a day a bit overwhelming. My back is sore since no one is around to help with the heavy lifting (Baby M is nearly 20 lbs and has yet to outgrow his penchant for being held all day). On the plus side, I haven't had to hear about any ballroom dancers, smart 5th graders or wannabee pop stars. And I guess it is nice to have my husband back too, even though he is watching Lost while I scrub sweet potatoes off of the piano.