Pages

Monday, May 12, 2008

We love daddy, yessiree

Happy (day after) Mother's Day to me! This year is the first in which I didn't get a pity rose at church. You see, every year on Mother's Day in our congregation, they hand out roses to all the mothers. And then, at the end, after every mother has gotten one, one of the teenaged boys doing the handing out will feel sorry for me (because I guess I not only look childless but also pathetic) and will hand me a rose and say something like "You're in charge of the children, so you're like a mother. Here." It's really very touching...ish. And last year at this time I was pregnant, but we weren't telling anyone yet as a precaution, so no rose again. But this year I had an actual child, my child, in tow, and I could not be denied or pitied. So I got my white rose...and promptly stuck myself on some VICIOUS thorns! Thank goodness I don't believe in signs, no?

I also got Mother's Day gifts...sort of. You see, the husband had a great idea to make me a photo collage of some of my favorite shots. He even got me to tell him which ones I liked without my actually clueing in to what he was doing. He even got me to pick out some collage frames I liked without my being any the wiser (can you tell I'm new to this whole holiday?). However, he was thwarted in actually getting the shots developed or framed, even after 5 trips to Walmart and various other photo kiosks. But the collage is coming, and it really is the thought that counted in this case (did I mention FIVE trips? That's perseverance, baby!). I did get cards, one each from the husband and Jacob. Jacob turned out to be the more verbose of the two. Go figure! That four month old has a lot to say to his mommy, apparently.

Right now, the husband is putting the baby to bed, and I have the baby monitor on in anticipation of the (usually very slight) crying that will come soon. The husband is reading the baby a story, which just happens to be an alphabet book of America's important women (given to us by his grandmother). You know, D is for Emily Dickinson and then a little bit about her follows, along with a snippet of poetry. So my husband is reading this book to my son and making periodic comments like "wow, that's crazy" when he learns a new fact about a lesser known but important woman educator, for instance.

This is the kind of scene that warms my feminist mother heart! And that's the kind of gift I can really support. Plus, that kind of husband and my cute kid? Who needs anything more?

No comments: