Mother's Way

On Saturday afternoon, Simon took Wombat to the Walgreen's a mile away to get some Sudafed. It took almost an HOUR. An HOUR for one-mile Sudafed! Although I was a little panicked by the time he got back because it meant we were going to be late to dinner at our next-door neighbors' house, it was hard to get too upset considering the delay was caused by a combination of (1) all meth-lab-related drugs being locked up at our neighborhood Walgreen's, (2) Simon stopping to help our elderly neighbors unload a new lawnmower from their car, and (3) the boys returning with a bag full of Mother's Day gifts Wombat had picked out for me himself. The haul included: a pair of orange and fuschia-striped ankle socks, a pink hair elastic with a scarf attached (wtf?), a bag of cough drops (I've had a cough for two weeks; well done, Wombat!), and the strange marriage of two of my favorite seasonal treats, Otter Pops and Peeps. Yes, that would be marshmallow-flavored popsicles, and if you don't hear from me after today, you will have rightful cause to imagine they were responsible for my demise because, come on, that sounds pretty gross even to someone who consumed half of a giant tub of Red Vines all by herself in under ten days. But Frozen Peeps Pops: my baby selected them from a shelf and brought them home for me, and so I shall soldier through the discomfort of their sugary make-up and try not to go cross-eyed from the gagging.

The fare at our Mother's Day tea party was much more palatable.

Mother's Day itself was practically perfect in every way, because, DING DING, we didn't really have an agenda. And since I always have an agenda--an agenda that is, mind you, constantly foiled by the whims of a toddler--it was extra wonderful for all of us, I think, that we had one entire go-with-the-flow day to just...go with the flow and not worry about chores and projects and plans. We were going to tackle some gardening (heading into mid-May, it's probably time to put some plants in the ground, eh?), but instead we went to the zoo, and after that we were supposed to go home, but Wombat said (as we pulled into the driveway), "I don't want to go home!" and so we went to the playground instead, until we (I) couldn't stand the cold and wind any longer and made an Official Mother's Day request to get the hell out of there.

Last week we were in the kiddie pool at 7 p.m. and this week we were in coats at noon. California, you crazy old broad.

The zoo was a blast, even though Wombat ranked the excitement of seeing live animals below that of running in and out of a fiberglass Disney log.

We were also lucky that he's eked his way up to 36" tall because I think he might have combusted upon being told he was too little to ride the fire truck by the taking-his-job-way-too-seriously ride attendant, who personally measured each prospective rider with exacting precision.

I was not surprised when the carousel attendant told me I didn't need a ticket to stand next to Wombat on the tiger, but I did need a ticket if I wanted to sit on the rhino beside him. Uh...what the hell, it's Mother's Day, right?

I tell you, though, just the chance to do whatever we felt like doing, to not constantly check the clock or consult the map or think about how we should be spending our time...You know, it really doesn't take a holiday to make this kind of relaxation possible, although apparently that's what it takes to remind me of the fact.

Thankfully, it does not take a holiday to remind me how lucky I am to be a mother, and specifically the mother of such a stand-out kid, who takes after his stand-out dad. The honor and privilege is entirely mine, guys. Thank YOU.