*For the record, I posted this the other day, but Blogger let me down. Shame on you, Blogger.*
Happy Mother's Day!
To celebrate, here's a dose of the good ol' stomach flu.
You'll be up half the night, trying to decide whether you should sit on the toilet or kneel in front of it.
You'll be up the other half of the night, trying to get your baby back to sleep.
Your husband will offer to make you breakfast-in-bed the next morning, but you'll have to decline because the thought of food makes you want to hurl.
You'll sit through church feeling queasy, fighting back tears when one of the speakers reads a touching Mother's Day poem. You'll lay your head in your husband's lap as if you're a little girl, because it's the only thing that makes you feel better.
You'll chug Pepto and 7-Up and spend the afternoon languishing on your couch, watching your baby and husband play on the living room floor. You'll finally fall asleep while a cool breeze sweeps through the open windows. And when you wake up, refreshed, you'll see your baby's sweetly-sleeping face beside you and your husband snoring on the floor and you will smile.
Your husband will wake up and ask if there's anything you need and you'll say no, you actually feel much better. Then you'll see them off to the family BBQ while you stay home and relax. As you read the love letter your husband wrote you for the fifteenth time, you'll decide that, after all, it was a pretty wonderful Mother's Day.
Especially since Baby saved his explosive poop for his daddy.
That was his Mother's Day gift to me.
Look here and here and here to see my other Mother's Day gifts.
They make me happy everytime I walk outside.
But I am sorry I missed that breakfast in bed,
The Brown-Eyed Girl