Remembering # 9 and the post where I realize I have serious pregnancy food issues

I had my 9th Mother's Day last weekend. In keeping with tradition, it was full of a lot of hugs and squishes and homemade cards and an early morning wake up.

I told the kids the night before that this year they were in charge of breakfast, not daddy. With all his extra hours of work, we both needed/wanted to sleep in so there would be no waking me up before 8 AM. At 6:15 I heard the whisperings and prayed they were looking at a clock and remembered I still had two more hours. 

And at 8 o'clock on. the. dot. I got my first eyelid lift. "Mommy, are you awake? We have breakfast." And bless their hearts, it was prepared by 6:20 and they patiently waited until the designated time to give it to me. I can imagine the anticipation was practically killing them. They brought me 2 pieces of toast (which was probably nice and warm two hours before) with plenty of butter and homemade jam. There was a bowl of vanilla yogurt with raspberries and fingertip tracks running through it. And lastly there was a fruit smoothie in a fancy drinking goblet. They even sounded off the ingredients, just like mommy does each night at dinner. "Strawberries, blueberries, fresh juice, ice, peaches, a banana, and some spinach." Personally and professionally speaking, I think the ratio of spinach to fruit was vastly outnumbered. (Alfer later told me that he supervised the smoothie making so the Vitamix wouldn't suffer an early demise.) Sure there were a few berries, but there were at least three or four fistfuls of spinach filled to the top. All together it was quite a tasty (not sure if that's the right word) treat and I think they have a future on Top Chef, for sure. If only because they're so cute and the cameras would love them.

Why is it on Mother's Day you find out what a "great" mother you actually are?

 



Mason's class at school made these for their moms. I had to hide my laughter and just thank my sweet son for spending his class tickets on such a gift. (And yes, it was thrown away when no one was watching.

I kept the note though.)

 

Despite the "delicious" breakfast, needless to say come sacrament meeting time at church, my stomach was rumbling and growing and begging for food. Thankfully I got to munch on some of this yumminess. (It was her first time singing in Sacrament meeting.  Like I was going to pass up capturing this moment!)
 

After church was out we were supposed to come home and eat because when you're 8 months pregnant and you haven't eaten anything for an extended amount of time, it is highly likely you will start hallucinating. However, my husband realized that throwing a meal together isn't as easy as his sweet and amazing wife makes it look every day. I was highly entertained watching it all go down in the kitchen. For four.plus.hours.

During the middle of the dinner prep, something was spilled (by me, actually, looking for a snack in the fridge. Are you sensing a theme in this post?). Have you ever read the book If you Give a Mouse a Cookie? Well pretty much that's what went down for a good hour or two while my husband was supposed to be grilling. I might have started to hyperventilate due to low blood sugar. 

 

Instead of just wiping up the spill, he saw some more spots on the fridge. Which led to the whole fridge needing to be wiped out. Which led to the bottom cabinets needing a good wipe down. Which led to moving the stove and oven because it was off balanced. Which led to the area behind the stove being cleaned and washed out. And heck, while he was at it, why not move the other major appliances in the kitchen and clean what was behind them. Which led to an entire hands and knees mopping of the kitchen floor. (PS Please note these weren't my instructions or requests. This was all him, my silly little mouse.) 

I wish I would have thought to take pics of the whole thing, but at least I have this to remember how truly hilarious (and secretly awesome) it was to watch it all play out. 

Finally we ate a delicious bar-b-q dinner which was, truth be told, worth the wait. They even topped it off with my favorite homemade strawberry shortcake and real cream for dessert. After dinner, we surprisingly still had time for our traditional Sunday walk where the true lady of the house was treated to her typical daddy-assisted scooter ride.

It was a perfect ending to a very nice day, where I treated myself to no guilt, no food prep or clean up, and letting my children know how very much I love being their mother. After all, it's their day, too; because without them, I would have no reason to celebrate such a wonderful day.