joy and responsibility

Pook was responsible for making me a mom. (CD could argue that on technicalities....) There are two moments that I remember as When I Became A Mom. CD may have become a Dad the moment he cut the cord of the pink, crying baby laying on my chest, but it was about four hours later for me. I was exhausted and ready for bed by about 8:30. CD and I brushed our teeth and turned out the lights, getting ready to finally sleep. Then that-thing-in-the-bassinet cried. I had an "Oh crap" moment. I realized that I couldn't go to sleep until he did. I was a Mom.

The second moment was the first morning in my own bed after coming home from the hospital. It was Mother's Day 2001. We placed Pook between us in the bed, content and fed, and I looked at our family. I swore I'd remember that moment forever. Happy 7th Birthday Pook. I should celebrate your day of birth and allow you to celebrate making me a mom.

I can't slight Bug here. It amazes me when suddenly they reach an age where they remember things that have happened only rarely, and possibly a year ago. Or they're told something will happen and they remember a week later without prompting. Last year, when Bug was just past three, he popped into bed with me the morning of Sunday, May 13, and whispered in my ear, "Happy Mother's Day". I must have looked at him with huge eyes and a big grin, because he was smiles ear to ear. How did he know? "I just did."

Clearly my joy was visible to him, because every time he wants to make me happy, such as after a meltdown or when I'm clearly annoyed, frayed, crabby or otherwise irritable, he comes to me and quietly whispers, "Happy Mother's Day." I gladly accept the wishes.


To all the moms out there: Congratulations