It is, after all, my first one. It's like a rite of passage, being loved on that special Sunday when there are flowers and jewelry blanketing the public like sky. I suppose that in that moment, I thought I deserved to relax, to be paid attention to. But the truth is, that's not what it's all about. I don't want to lay on the couch and watch Scandal. I don't want to get a massage. I don't even really want to sleep in and miss the look on my baby's face when she wakes up happy, standing up in her crib like a big girl, bouncing up and down to get to me. I suppose I am a mother because all I really want is to be with her.
Don't get me wrong - it's been awhile since I've slept late.(Understatement of the year. Mamas, am I right??) And at the very least, I will take my husband up on his offer of hanging with the baby while I go for a run all by my lonesome with earphones and no specific mileage in mind - and then take a long, hot shower after. I am human, you know. But mostly, I just want to strap the baby into her stroller or car seat and show her stuff.
Flowers, aquariums, zoos, parks, picnics, trees, all manner of Spring and play. Her face as she discovers a new texture, the air on her face - this is what I want to spend my time looking at. Olivia Pope, I love you, but you're just not as amazing as that ten month old little girl.
So on Sunday, I'll be right here with my baby. I don't need jewelry or sleep or chocolate. I just need baby giggles and snuggles, gummy smiles, shaky steps and a crawling munchkin zooming across the room to me. My first Mother's Day - and all I want to do is be a Mom.
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