Today and every day, Mom’s not the word

Me and Catherine, Mother’s Day, 2009.

Good morning!. Did you get your morning toast in bed?

My sister and I used to make quite a production of Mother’s Day tea and toast on the tray table. Mom ate it every year with gusto. I wonder now exactly what she was thinking!

I did not get breakfast in bed today, since — as is usually the case on the weekends — I am the first one up.

No matter. In the fridge are the makings of a barbecue. Nothing says Happy Mother’s Day like a big hunk of grilled meat, after all. And you know what? As long as the house isn’t set on fire, and I don’t have to clean any of it up, it’s all fine with me.

I still can’t really wrap my brain around Mother’s Day being an occasion for ME, but somewhere along the line, I went from being the mother who had to call my mom or consult parenting books to being other mothers’ go-to for issues ranging from ear infection diagnosis to wound care and everything in between.

Which is strange, because just a few years ago, I was counting fingers and toes, wrestling to get a snug fit on the Pampers, and playing that ridiculous airplane game for “just one more bite.”

I was washing bibs, making bottles, icing boo-boos and shampooing sweet potatoes out of Catherine’s hair.

For awhile, each day brought a new milestone. She could smile (when not having gas)! She could eat solid food (and return it to us in pretty quick order)! She could roll over (again and again for the camera!)!

She could clap hands and “dance.” She could crawl. She could walk. She could tie her shoes, count to 10, write her name.

Early on, one of our favorite things to watch was the words she amassed. The words came quickly. (Having read copiously on the subject, I was sure this was the result of strict adherence to nightly bedtime stories and my constant stream of one-sided conversations. Little did I know that 16 years later, I’d still be talking and getting no response!)

At one point, sure we had a genius on our hands, we even wrote down all the words she could say. (The list is around here somewhere, along with enough photos to build an entire room’s worth of furniture. Really need to get those labeled and in albums. One day.)

But our daily updates on her linguistic progress went something like this:

Basil: She said Da Da!

Me: Did she say Mama?

Basil: She said ‘up.’

*

Basil: She said ‘no.’

Me: Did she say Mama?

Basil: She said ‘Da Da.’

*

Basil: She said ‘light.’

Me: Did she said Mama?

Basil: She said ‘Da Da.’

And today?

I’ll bet you anything she’ll say, “Dad, can you take me to the mall?”

Happy Mother’s Day!