my first mother's day

Let me just say, this week did not put me in the mood to celebrate anything. The hub and I both got the stomach flu, which had us elbowing each other to get to the bathroom within seconds of feeling those waves of nausea. And the other end. Ugh. I stayed home from work for two days and only at the end of the week could I eat normally and take the stairs. Britton was sent home from daycare Wednesday afternoon for randomly throwing up, which she has done since last Sunday. I took her to the doctor Thursday, as you know, and she was diagnosed with acid reflux. So I am now armed with a note from the doctor to shove under the nose of the snotty assistant director wannabe who snidely told the hub on Thursday morning, 15 minutes after dropping off Britton, that she was welcome back at 3:00 p.m. but would need to vacate the premises ASAP. "It's our policy. These sicknesses really turn into a vicious cycle if we allow children back in the classroom before 24 hours." First of all, your policy is stupid. Because my kid doesn't have a fever or any other signs of sickness. Secondly, babies throw up all the time. Thirdly, I have a doctor's note so suck it Trebek.

Anywho, I had to make up work time this weekend because I took off for the daycare shenanigans. And that threw a wrench into our plans to go to Dallas for the weekend and celebrate Mother's Day with the in-laws. Luckily, my in-laws are very understanding people, so they hopped in their truck and came here to see us. I made up my time off Saturday morning while they played with Britton, Britton of course showing off her crawling and pulling up skills.

On Saturday we all went to TLC Nursery and the hub got me my Mother's Day gift of a rose bush. And Grandma treated me to one as well! I don't know if I'll be any good, and roses make me nervous because I hear they are finicky, but I'm going to give it my all to make those suckers grow!




And for no reason other than my daughter is too cute to not post these pictures, Britton enjoyed bathtime with Grandma on Saturday night.




On Sunday we broke into Grandma's Mother's Day gift and got our creative juices flowing. We got her a stepping stone that you can personalize with marbles, ceramic flowers, and these little discs that you put pictures in. Britton made her cement debut and the whole thing turned out so great that we're going to make it a tradition. Because I imagine Britton one day putting her much-larger hand over the little handprint and saying, "Was my hand really that small?" And Grandma and I will smile at each other because we remember the day we made the stepping stone and that her hand really was that small.





Dear Britton,

This is my first Mother's Day. And I know that the minute I gave birth, I became a mother is the truest definition of the word. But it is everything that happened since that has made me a mom. I remember the first time I ever called myself "Britton's mom" and you, "my daughter." It was August 4, 2010. I have held you, fed you, burped you, rocked you, played with you. I have cried on the bed, curled in a ball, out of pure exhaustion, and I have smiled with the most joy out of pure love. I have had less sleep, less patience, and less time than I ever thought possible. I have cried because you hurt. I have felt powerless when I can't make your world perfect. I know that for as long as I live, there will never be a night that I sleep as soundly as I did before you came into my life. You are truly my heart outside of my body.

I have spent the middle of the night staring at your monitor, willing you to breathe so that I can see it and know you are safe. I have watched you pull yourself up, only to fall into a pile on the carpet and not helped you up because you need to learn to do it on your own. I talk back to you in your baby language, the closest we come to a conversation. But I don't need you to talk to know what you want, what you need, how you love to be held close with your head tucked underneath my chin. I greet you every morning by calling you "Sunshine" and asking you if you had sweet baby dreams. And as I rock you every night, I thank you for another beautiful day, and as I gently close your door, I always say quietly, "I love you."

I don't expect you will remember these things. But I do hope that you remember that I love you. And while I have enjoyed my first Mother's Day immensely, I don't need a holiday to remind me that I've got the best job in the world - being your mom.