Mother's Day

... but not my first.  Last year on Mother's Day, I had just found out I was pregnant with you.  I celebrated quietly, to myself, with the warmest glow inside me and you, just the size of a poppy seed, to keep me company.  It was a huge weekend last year: finding out about you, moving to Washington, DC, and Mother's Day all wrapped into one.  This year was just as huge.

I graduated from law school, surrounded by dear friends, who I will sorely miss, and my lovely family: you, your dad, my parents, grandfather, and brother.  It was a beautiful May day, and we all had a grand time.  By the end of the day, though, we were all exhausted, you included (though you were a real trooper through the 2 hour graduation ceremony and reception following).  Friends came over for drinks, but we were finally able to get you to bed around 9:00.

And you slept until 6:45.  HUGE.  Your dad and I were both amazed.

We spent Mother's Day together because of course.  Your dad fixed a breakfast of hash browns and eggs (one of my favorites), and we headed up to the Eno River for a long morning hike.  You did so well, sleeping hard while your dad carried you in the Ergo.  After our hike, we sat at a picnic table and let you nurse, and then we all went to Foster's Market so your dad and I could eat lunch.  We sat outside on their beautiful patio and enjoyed the weather.  After lunch, a nap for you while Norma and I lay in the sunny spot in the living room.

And then - oh, then - the moment I've been anticipating for months: your first trip to the pool.  You were "all hat," as your dad says, and generally unimpressed.