A decade of Mother's Days? Really?
My man has come a long way. Ten years ago on my very first Mother's Day as a mom, I held my sweet little six week old baby in my arms, all bleary eyed and lacking sleep. I was excited to receive whatever sentimental treasure my Beloved had carefully chosen for me out of immeasurable gratitude for birthing, nourishing, and caring for his son.
The blank stare accompanied by a, "What? You're not MY mother!" was not quite what I had in mind.
If anything, he is a quick study, because that was the one and only time that has happened in a decade. I'm sure my hormonal tears told him all he needed to know.
He's going to love me for telling that story. Anyhoo.
This year, we escaped the land of eternal winter to soak up some heat in Moab (again).
We enjoyed an adventurous weekend of camping and hiking and eating and getting red sand in every possible crack and crevice.
Did I mention that it was 90 degrees? I loved it - even when my deoderant stopped working. Heck, I even loved it when Kenyon's deoderant stopped working.
The best Mother's Day card came from my sweet eight year-old Sauce. At the risk of giving him a good reason to put me in a crappy nursing home someday, I am going to share his card here.