I'm getting a Mothers's Day do-over

The plan: celebrate Mother's Day on Saturday, cause Dave had to leave for a business trip on Sunday morning and there wouldn't be much relaxation without him around, which is all I ever want for Mother's Day, including sleeping late and a pedi and nobody banging on the bathroom door when I'm showering to ask for a snack. He booked dinner at the gastropub we go to every eyar. For some reason, I got the feeling things weren't going to go as planned. I had no idea.

Ben emerged from preschool on Friday, a present in his hand. "I'm giving it to Daddy!" he announced. I explained what Mother's Day was. He pondered it. "When is Kid's Day?" he asked. "Every day!" I responded. I decided, generously, that if he wanted to give my present to Dave he could although there was a chance I'd require therapy for that.

Saturday started off nicely. I slept till 9:20 a.m., because I've lost my talent for sleeping really late. There were cards on the table to greet me and flowers showed up soon after.

Ben had the sniffles and seemed to be a little out of sorts. In November, he'd had surgery for a benign cyst on the side of his neck, except it turned out it extended down into his chest area (poor little guy is likely in for another round of surgery) and we'd been warned it could flair up when he got sick. Sure enough, there was a bulge beneath his right clavicle. Then suddenly he was burning up—103 degrees burning up. Dave whisked him off to the pediatrician as I called the doctor who'd done the surgery to discuss the possibility of an infection.

No cyst infection, just a viral infection. Ben came home and lay on the couch. He didn't even want a lollipop, he felt that crappy. He nodded off. Dave and Max took off to get lunch. Sabrina said she'd keep an eye on Ben and I ducked out to the garden center and Bed Bath and Beyond and came home with a flower basket for our front porch (exciting) and a new non-slip plastic mat for our tub (sadly, also exciting since the old one was getting gross).

In the late afternoon, Sabrina headed to her lacrosse game with Dave and Max. Ben fell asleep early and I continued my Mother's Day celebration by reorganizing a bunch of shelves in the kitchen, putting new lights into the lamppost on our front lawn and sitting on the rocking chair in Ben's room and worrying about him. 

A little while later, Ben asked to sleep in our bed. At 1:00 a.m., he woke up and puked down my back as I carried him to the bathroom. I changed his clothes and mine and he fell back asleep but I couldn't. I was in that I-hope-he-is-OK/I-smell-like-like-puke-but-I'm-not-showering stage.

Dave left at 7:30 Sunday morning. Ben's fever was gone and he was back to his usual jumping-off-the-couch self but I wanted to keep him at home, plus it was supposed to rain the entire day. So we played with blocks (Ben) and watched videos of fire trucks on YouTube (Max) and SnapChatted (Sabrina) and jumped off the couch (Ben) and cleaned and decluttered (me) and ordered in pizza for dinner and had cookie ice-cream sandwiches for dessert and cleaned some more (me).

Sabrina made me this awesome presentation, proof that I am actually not the worst mother in the world. !!!

At night we watched videos of Max and Sabrina when they were little, and I had to will myself to not burst into sobs because WHEN DID MY BABIES GET SO BIG?! When did they lose their little-kid voices? How amazing is it that Max has made so much speech progress? When did they grow out of that chubbiness? How delicious were they? Why can't I go back in time and kiss and hug them? Sob.

In the end, I had a nice Mother's Day. It wasn't exactly relaxing, but I had fun with my gang—and I got a major reality check about savoring their childhood. Oh, and you can can bet I'm taking Dave up on his rain check to get a pedi next weekend and go to that gastropub.

Ben actually did give me my present, and it was his hand, Shrinky-Dinked, on a keychain. Just what I needed.