My Mother's Day started in the typical way with breakfast. In the dining room. Cooked by me. Now social media sometimes leads me to belief that I'm the only woman in the whole wide world who doesn't get breakfast served to her in bed, prepared by her husband. But surely I cannot be. So just in case there is anyone out there reading this who thinks the same. At least you know there is one other person whom this is not a reality for. Now I'm sure my husband would do this, if he knew at all how to cook. But beyond pouring a bowl of cereal, the man is helpless in that arena. I was still happy to have some yummy breakfast, even if I did have to make it myself. Beats the eggos I normally prepare.
James gave me my gift a few weeks prior to the big day. It was the night before we were leaving on our cruise. I was a mess. Crying on the floor of our room while packing. I had major anxiety about leaving the kids because all these crazy what ifs kept popping into my mind. What if something happened to one of the children? What if something happened to us? In an attempt to fix me, James gave me my early Mother's Day present. A black Tory Burch beach bag, which I love and was the perfect bag for the trip. Thanks hunny. Ben presented me with my gifts from him on the morning of however. First up my card. That's he and I in the heart. He's also really into drawing arrows. They are supposed to indicate from Ben to Mommy, with an I Love You in the middle. The little square rectangle papers below are my gift cards. One is good for ten days (notice the 01- I think he may be dyslexic) of good behavior, and the other is good for ten days of making breakfast (he discovered that he too is capable of popping an eggo into the toaster, which he then hand rips into pieces for himself and for Jackson). Best presents ever. Even better than the bag. Sorry hunny, but it's true!
James ended up having to go into the store (owning your own business is no joke and we are trying to work out some personnel kinks and figure out all together if we are going to keep the shop open on Sundays in the future). Anyway, I attempted to give these boys a bath and start to get us ready, but then I ended up falling asleep on the couch only to wake up right before church and decided to give myself the gift of a day off. Kinda lame of me I know, but energy hasn't been my best friend lately, and I needed some rest, so Jackson and I continued to snooze in my bed.
Late afternoon we headed to Sausalito for a lovely Mother's Day dinner with family. My parents left for Hawaii the day before, so I celebrated with my mom and sister earlier that week over pedicures and frozen yogurt. I was very happy to celebrate on the day of with my wonderful mother-in-law and extended family. It was such a gorgeous day for the city. I think it must have been high eighties. We dined outside while the three amigos climbed all over the hill, giving me a heart attack, and sneaking bundtinis from the kitchen. I think Jackson snuck three.
My night ended much like it began, in the typical fashion. About thirty minutes after putting the boys to bed, Ben walked out of his room, across the living and dining rooms and into the kitchen. I could tell immediately by his sleep walking state what he was about to do. I yelled out, don't pee in the kitchen, to which James looked at me like "what the what?" and then it happened. The kid opened the cabinet door, and peed into the garbage can. This has happened a couple of times before. My mother's brother used to do the exact same thing. Luckily he was a good aim. Oh parenting you never cease to amaze me.