088 edited for blog

Apparently when they bought me flowers, Nathan made sure to tell the cashier that the bouquet was for “my Mama”. When Jason told me that the tears welled up and over and down and I could barely catch my breath at the wonder of this journey that made me his Mama.


My only request for Mother’s Day was to have a “pretty picnic” with just my boys. Jason bought some yummy food, the boys helped me pick out a skirt and top, and we went to our favorite Sunday stomping grounds, a nature preserve on an old farm that has lots of trails and wildflowers and a pond. We laid our picnic blanket, a quilt Jason’s grandma made us for our wedding, under an old pecan tree’s shade and ate our meal.

Nathan is learning to drink from a cup so I poured out some french lemonade into a cup for him to try. He was too scared to drink it – he struggles with over-thinking about new skills – so I dipped my finger in the pink liquid and let him suck it off my finger thinking it would whet his appetite and convince him to bravely tip the cup up to drink. Instead he took my lead and dunked his hand in over and over, licking the lemonade off his hands and dripping it all over.


The stress of long days, short nights, and the cares of a working, therapy, toddler Mama caught up to me and I somehow blacked out and fell and scraped myself up. Instead of ruining the day, I think it woke me up to the need for more self-care.


Nathan fell asleep on our way home and we decided to just try to transfer him from the car to his bed. As Jason gently unbuckled him and picked him up to carry inside, Nathan automatically started shaking his head “no”. It’s a reflex these days.


Jason drew me an epsom salt bath, lit a candle, poured me some wine, and let me soak my scraped up body. Bliss.


Nathan wouldn’t settle in for an extended nap, so we let him up to play and, like the good parents we are, crawled in his little bed together and told him we were going to take a nap while he played. He promptly pulled out his musical instruments and went to town banging on the drum and shaking the maracas. I leaned in close to Jason’s ear and asked, “Can we call it ‘rhythm and blues’ when he starts whining?” He chuckled. Shortly after that I could hear Jason’s breathing change. He really did fall asleep.