Sometimes the best thing about your day is that it wasn't worse. That's not to say I didn't have a nice Mother's Day. I did. My kids made me cards and wrote the sweetest things in them. My son wrote that I am "the besteet mom in the uonrvrs." For those who can't read first grade spelling that means "the bestest mom in the universe." He was so excited to give it to me he barged into the bedroom bright and early and stood by my bed while I read it bleary-eyed.
M wrote a P.S. that read "Mom rocks!" so I must have been an okay mom the morning she created that card!
After K plunged into my bed a second time I gave up on trying to sleep in and got out of bed. Craig made me his incredibly yummy homemade hash browns for breakfast while my three reasons I am a mother climbed in and out of my lap.
My parents came out to our house for lunch. Craig had smoked some hamburgers the day before then finished them on the grill today. I made macaroni salad. Craig made garlic toast. I bought a vegetable tray. It was nothing fancy, and in my eyes, perfect for Mother's Day. I had my kids, my husband and my parents with me.
The day could have been warmer and less-windy, but it seems every year that Mother's Day is a little on the cool side and this year it seems the weather is more cool than it has been nice. We ventured outside anyway. My kids are bouncing off the walls these days. You know it's been too long since warm weather when even your kids notice and comment on it.
The kids were taking turns on the tire swing and having a blast. D wanted M to push her on the swing in the style they were calling "Superman" which involved D on her belly in the middle of the swing. We all saw it coming but were powerless as it happened. A wild swing. M misjudging the force of her swing in regard to her sister's small size. D's head met the tree with a crack. M immediately crumpled in tears. I'm sure she thought she'd killed her sister.
D was hysterical. She had a large bump developing on her temple, under several scratches. She'd bit her lip or her tongue or both. A bit of blood pooled on my shirt as I cradled my youngest, even while patting my eldest child's leg and telling her it was an accident. I don't know what was worse, seeing little D hurt or seeing Miss M so visibly upset about the incident.
K Man was obliviously playing the whole time. Gotta love boys.
M cried longer than D, though D cried for a good while. M was devasted that her fun had hurt her little sister. I tried to joke with her and brought a smile back to her face. D got back on the tire swing.
She even let M push her again, though she admonished her: "Just no hurt my head on the tree."