On mother's day eve Dave and I were downstairs chatting. Somehow mother's day came up and he said "um...are we - as in you and I - celebrating mother's day this year?" He looked nervous. I responded "No...I'm not a real mother yet. Sacrifices for my child so far only amount to physical discomfort. We can start up celebrations next year." He let out a relieved sound and then led me into the new bathroom where talk abruptly turned to his hand-built medicine cabinets. I was pretty sure he was going to remind me that these medicine cabinets were built with love and time, and could easily qualify as a mother's day gift.
He kept asking me if I liked his medicine cabinet better. I didn't really know where he was going with this line of questioning - but I assured him I loved and respected the medicine cabinets equally. Finally he said "Why don't you open my medicine cabinet so you can make sure it isn't bigger than yours." When I opened the cabinet I saw a wrapped gift hidden in the back, and a pleased look on Dave's face. What a trickster.
Dave knew he had done well when the tears started even before I opened the gift. It was a charm bracelet with one single charm representing a mother holding a baby. What a perfect gift.
Wow. There is nothing quite like a picture of your arm to remind yourself that your skin is not the lovely, smooth, olive skin you are used to looking at all day. You have freckles. As a side rant - has anyone seen the new sunscreen commercial? The one where the beautiful, perfect skinned girl looks at herself through a "special" machine and can see all the hideous (hidden) sun spots lurking behind her skin's perfect exterior? When she looks through the machine she basically just looks like a girl with freckles - and is horrified. This of course is more than enough motivation for her to lather up in sunscreen. Am I wrong to be a bit offended by this message?
Mr. mantastic in my belly scored some mother's day gifts as well. These shoes were from my sister-in-law Leslie. So cute right? I figure he can use them for casual or formal wear.
Casual = a day at the park, most likely saving some other baby's life.
Formal = accepting his award for baby of the year.
And here is a hoodie Aunt Yah Yah gave him a little while ago. Yes, he isn't even born and she is already spoiling him. Could this be cuter? What you can't see is this fabulous little number is terry cloth! I had this folded up on Dave's dresser. He held it up and said "This is never going to fit me, we need to get a bigger size."