Hello.
How was your Mother’s Day?
Mine was great. I decided to celebrate by coming down with a case of the plague and taking enough cold medicine to kill a horse. Or at least enough to help a horse breath comfortably through the night. Unfortunately all it did for me was to clear one half of my nose and cause my heart to feel like it was going to beat out my chest. And then I came crashing down from my Sudafed high around 1:00 p.m. yesterday and passed out for the bulk of the afternoon. Which was kind of like a vacation but with severe pain in my sinus cavity.
The best part of my Mother’s Day celebration was Friday. (Oh, sweet Friday, when I was still able to breathe like a normal human being and didn’t feel like aliens had invaded my skull) Caroline’s teacher arranged for the class to host a Mother’s Day tea party and it was about the sweetest thing I’ve ever attended. The kids escorted us into the classroom where we were treated to an array of handmade gifts, a photo slideshow, and a song. I seriously cried about three times before it was all over.
And you’ll be glad to know that Caroline didn’t wear her swimsuit coverup and instead chose a lovely pink sundress. I’ll spare you all the theatrics that went into the final decision, but will share that at one point she sighed and said, “I wish I had prettier clothes”. Which is kind of an ironic statement coming from someone who wants to wear cut off jean shorts every single day of the week in spite of a closet full of cute outfits. I don’t know that you have any credibility on what constitutes “cute” when your favorite t-shirt is from a dance camp you attended a year ago and says “GIRL POWER” on the front.
The Cheetah Girls had a soccer game on Saturday morning. We played the best game we’ve played all season and the girls managed to play hard the whole time even though they didn’t have any fruit for a halftime snack which almost led to a mutiny. If they worried as much about scoring goals as they do about eating three pieces of pineapple at halftime, we’d be undefeated.
By the time we got home on Saturday I was well on my way to getting sick. I knew I felt slightly feverish in the car on the way home, but was in denial because I didn’t want to be sick. The springtime cold just feels wrong. Colds are for the winter when you can curl up in bed and know you’re not missing anything. A cold in the springtime just feels like a fraud, especially because everyone wants to tell you it’s probably just allergies. IT’S NOT ALLERGIES.
On Saturday afternoon, Caroline was invited to go to the bat cave with some friends. And as much as I wish that meant she went to the home of Batman and Robin, it just means that she went to a cave outside of town where people go to watch millions of bats fly out at dusk. Apparently there are people who want to see this kind of thing and my daughter is one of them. I prefer to see bats more like NEVER.
So I was in my pajamas by 4:00 Saturday afternoon and my daughter was out on the town viewing bats and eating dinner until around 9:30. I’m not sure what has happened to my life.
I didn’t make it to church on Sunday because I felt terrible and Caroline decided she’d stay home and take care of me since it was Mother’s Day. She offered to bring me breakfast in bed, but she couldn’t get the box of cereal open so she asked me if I’d open the box and go ahead a fix her a bowl of cereal while I was in there. But she did create a little scavenger hunt for me to find the Mother’s Day card she made for me and it was really sweet.
Late Sunday afternoon I felt a little bit better so we ventured out to treat ourselves to a little ice cream.
And then I took some more Sudafed.
And that was our day.
Oh, except for this. After I put Caroline to bed, I came out into the living room and P was watching Black Hawk Down which he’s only seen about sixty-four other times. There is nothing he likes more than to point out actors and try to make me guess what other movies they’ve been in and at least half the time he doesn’t even know the answer. He just wants to drive me crazy until I cave and look it up online.
He’s asking me about all these different characters and I’m doing my best to figure out the answer and then he points out one guy and asks, “Who is he? He’s that guy that was really popular a few years ago.”
“I don’t know. They all have shaved heads and look alike to me.”
“No. You know who he is! All the high school girls thought he was cute.”
“I have no idea.”
“Yes you do. He played that elf in Gone with the Wind or whatever it was called.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about and saying ‘elf’ and ‘Gone with the Wind’ in the same sentence is blasphemy. Do you mean Lord of the Rings?”
“Yes. Lord of the Rings.”
The fact that I even knew where he was trying to go is a testament of what happens after almost thirteen years of marriage.
“It’s Orlando Bloom.”
“Yes. Orlando Bloom. Why was that so hard?”
I can’t imagine.