happy mother's day

It's a little late in the evening to be saying this (it's 11:35 as I write), but to all the moms out there, happy mother's day! I never understood how important this day can be until this year. Now I know that it's one of the most precious things in the world to be a mother.

Last night, though, pessimistic me was dreading the day. I faced a day that had my husband leaving for work by 6:15 am, not home til 7:15 pm, and then out the door again for hockey at 8:15 pm (he's still not home, by the way). So, my first mother's day and I'd be spending it alone with my baby. Not too bad a prospect (she's the reason to celebrate, after all!), but by last night at 7:00 pm I was exhausted. I bragged too soon about Bridget sleeping ten hours a night, and paid for it Tuesday night and Wednesday night--hence, the exhaustion. (Well, her lack of sleep at night and during the day on Thursday, which meant I didn't get any rest, anything done, and hadn't even eaten since about 1:00 pm, which was unusual since I've taken to eating smaller meals or snacks more often when I get a chance.) When Al called as he left work, I told him I needed him to take care of Bridget and the dog and let me eat and get to bed. Then he called again at 7:30ish, ten or fifteen minutes after he should have been home, telling me he had to go to a store. I knew what that meant--he left Mother's Day shopping until the last minute despite being off work for a week (April 30th - May 5th) and my hints the week before that Mother's Day was coming up (he'd forget his own birthday if I let him). Disappointed and tired, I told him that he just needed to come home--I'd rather have food and my rest instead of a gift or a card.

Now, before you start thinking that I'm a spoiled brat who is way overdramatic and get hurts too easily (which could be a valid opinion sometimes, I'll admit), you have to know what else happened yesterday. I got a call around 10:45 am telling me that my oldest uncle, who also happens to be one of my favorites, was about to have brain surgery in fifteen minutes. He had bleeding in the brain--a burst blood vessel, I believe, but don't quote me on that--and several blood clots that the doctors needed to remove immediately. Again, don't quote me, but I believe they used a helicopter to transport him from his local hospital to a hospital equipped to do the surgery. Although I was told that the doctor said it was a "simple" procedure (since when is brain surgery simple?) and that his wife, my aunt, wasn't worried (BS), I was worried. You tend to get that way when you've had two family members of his generation die within the last thirteen months, especially when one of them was your mother. I didn't hear back until 4:00 pm that they had just finished surgery (again, I ask, a four to five hour surgery is "simple"?), that the prognosis was good but they were keeping him in the ICU overnight for observation. Then not until right after Al called me that second time that my other aunt, my uncle's sister, had spoken to him after the surgery and he really was fine, talking, joking, etc., would have an MRI at 4:00 am the next morning, and would go home on Monday if everything came out positive.

Enter Al five minutes later: I'm crying. He probably thinks it's because of the Mother's Day thing. Part of it is. He decides to take the dog for a walk (she really needs it) but that leaves me with Bridget (and without food) for another hour. I finally get to make dinner and eat, but get Bridget back when he eats. I still don't get to bed until after 10:00 pm. But at least I get eight hours of sleep, a miracle in itself.

Oh. Did I forget to mention that sometime after Al got home my brother texted to see if any of us siblings wanted to go to the cemetery this morning to visit mom's grave? Enter crying again. It's been very hard on me to resist urges to call my mom and tell her what's going on.

Finally to today in the story. This morning when Al's alarm went off, I decided to not be upset about the lack of a card/gift/etc. since I had asked Al to come home instead of going to a second store (I guess he had already gone to one last night, only to find it closed). I thought he must be writing me a note since he took much longer than usual getting out of the house, so I stayed in bed until he came in to say goodbye (I typically get up either just before or just after he leaves so I can pump and store some breastmilk). He also took forever saying goodbye and I kept telling him not to wake Bridget up--she had been making some small sounds, and if I don't get to pump in the morning, it's not really worth it (I lose the milk and the ability to pump a lot the next few days). When I did get up and go into the kitchen after he had gone, I was disappointed. No note on the counter where he always leaves it. I still was determined not to get upset. I pumped, did my makeup, and went in the bedroom to get dressed and get Bridget up (still not awake after almost ten and a half hours) and saw that he had laid a card down on her feet in the bassinet. And he had written a long paragraph consisting of "goo goo ga poop pee sleep drool goo i'm so big ga gurgle (etc.)" and "translated" it into stuff like "you're a great mom." It made me laugh, and made me happy. The day was looking better.

I decided that I would go to mom's grave after feeding Bridget and left to meet my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew there. I got there first and was shocked and upset to find that they still haven't put her headstone in the ground. It is the middle of May, after all. I can see them not doing it in the winter, but I don't think we're in danger of a big snow or ice storm anytime soon. It was also obvious that they haven't done anything to the plot since the day they buried her--like plant grass seed. I started looking around and realized that someone who died in March of 2008 didn't have grass, either. It looks like if we want grass we have to plant it ourselves, although that's probably against the rules. It sounds dumb, but I had been looking forward to "introducing" Bridget to mom and had even brought along my camera to take a picture of her headstone (weird, I know). Instead, I was shocked, angry, and crying out of frustration. Then my brother and his family showed up and stayed for five minutes. Really, how long do you need to stay at a grave? It's not like mom was really there or could hear or see us, but the entire experience still disappointed me. I left when they did since the wind was chilly. I didn't want Bridget to get sick.

After leaving the cemetery, I really wanted some company. It was my first Mother's Day and I didn't have my husband around and hadn't been able to "talk" to my own mom as I had planned. I tried calling my sister for a late breakfast/early lunch, but she did'nt answer. Instead, I went shopping and bought a whole bunch of 3-6 month clothes for Bridget (she's already out of 0-3 month). They were on sale--what can I say? We're also getting (just got, actually) a whole bunch of hand-me-downs from our friends Kari and Craig, so I'm pretty excited to be getting Bridget into girl clothes instead of neutral onesies. I checked my phone when I left and texted my sister asking if she wanted to do lunch, and then realized that my dad had called. He was dropping by with a card. Yay! I called him back, asked if he wanted to go to lunch, and the answer was affirmative. He met me at our house, I fed Bridget, and then we went out (Kerby's, of course). We didn't get back until close to 3:00 pm and then Bridget ate and slept for an hour while I did laundry. Then we just hung out (well, she ate some more), and by the time Al came home Bridget was wide-eyed and smiley. Of course, by the time he left she was hungry again and getting pretty tired, but we got that taken care of. She went down for the night at 10:00 and I put away laundry, did dishes, and soaked in the hot tub for half an hour. And now here I am. A good day all in all. If only my carpal tunnel weren't coming back every time I hold Bridget, it would have been an almost-perfect-except-for-the-cemetery-incident day.