Earning the Right to Be Celebrated

I am now home.  According to the doctor, Maggie does not still have an ear infection.  Let’s hope that teething is the cause of her continuing tantrums, fussiness, severe attachment to me, et cetera…OTHERWISE we’re going through a rough stage.  (How early can the “terrible twos” start?)

This morning at church the pastor announced that moms would be celebrated and given special gifts next Sunday in honor of Mother’s Day.  Like many other people, I have always thought that Mother’s Day was a commercial holiday underwritten by Hallmark.  However, after several weeks of the above-mentioned behaviors and tonight’s throw-up incident, I am changing my mind. 

Maggie quickly downed a bottle (yes–a bottle at 15 months!) tonight before bed and, shortly thereafter, retrieved the milk along with all of her dinner in just a few heaves.  I screamed my husband’s name several times to no avail.  I was on my own. 

Later, as I picked bits of undigested hot dogs and mandarin oranges out of the load of soured clothes I placed in the washing machine, I decided that perhaps a day of all-about-me is in order.  I contemplated the last fifteen months of motherhood and calculated the enormity of my right to be celebrated as I stood there braless (Maggie soaked that too) and trying not to puke from the stench that still rose from beneath the t-shirt I stole from my husband’s drawer in the spewing aftermath.  Yup–I decided–a little blue box from that famous jewelry store and a free meal might just cover up all of the spilled..er, spewed milk.

On a more postive note (let me remind myself that this is a site meant for more than venting), Maggie finally said the word “more” tonight.  We’ve been working on having her say “more” instead of grunting, whining, and wildly gesturing.  It was so cute watching her mimic my mouth and squeeze her lips together to form the “m” just before the magic word finally popped out.  My husband and I cheered wildly in response and pushed some pineapple toward her.  One bite later, she was wrenching her body in a move to get down and play with the dog. 

In all, whether I am celebrated for pushing through puke or teaching a new word, I won’t turn away any honors next Sunday.  Like every other day, I’ll be celebrating too–celebrating the most awesome opportunity I’ve ever been given: the challenging gift of being a mom.


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