Mother's Day: Not a Simple Holiday

I can't think of any holiday that is more fraught than Mother's Day, from the perspective of being both a mother and a daughter. This was one of those high-octane weekends, when I felt like I was bursting at the seams as a mom. Tearing my hair out with frustration one moment, and melting with tenderness the next. And back and forth, again and again. Friday night was a sleepover that began with "Can A. spend the night?" and morphed quickly into five teenaged crew-team members giggling and shrieking, pizza and movies until 2am, when they all had to get up at 5:00 for their 6am Saturday practice.

Saturday was a bit surreal, and very sweet. A few weeks ago I blogged about my baby-longing, and the foster mom who had come to my house toting the Very Adorable Baby. Well, she just happened to read my blog, and emailed me asking if I wanted to fulfill some of that longing by spending some time with that VAB. Wow. (I think this may also have something to do with my iPod fortune telling, when I asked my iPod if I would have more children, and it responded with Ferron's song, "O Baby.")

So on Saturday morning I went to her house to gather up the 9-month old bundle of total cuteness, plus his diaper bag, bottle, carseat (identical to the ones my girls used, 10+ years ago) and stroller. All the gear! I had sort of forgotten. First we trundled off to Whole Foods to get snack for my younger daughter's soccer game. Unbelievable, the amount of attention that he/we received. I had forgotten about that too. It doesn't hurt that he is too cute and sweet for words, with eyelashes about half a mile long, and offering a smile to anyone in a 20-foot radius. Then we went to the soccer game, where he crawled around on the grass and a small team of girls and I valiantly prevented him from ingesting goose poop. More adoring attention, but it was also becoming clear how unflaggingly vigilant one must be. Like, I knew that very well a decade ago, but it had faded from my reality.

We came home. He had fallen asleep in the car, and thus the question: to move him, and risk waking him up? Would I sit in the car all afternoon? I finally decided to gingerly detach the carseat from the car, and bring sleeping-child-in-carseat into the house. It worked. I realized I was exhausted. We both slept in the guest room, me with one fishy eye half open.

When he woke up an hour later, the fun began. Lunch! Playtime! Diapers! It was a nonstop babyfest, with little Mister Adorable surrounded by an adoring team of four. My husband found him irresistable. My mother was intrigued. The dogs were totally beside themselves. And the girls were in love. We spent the afternoon offering him toys, airplane rides (you know,the "flying baby" maneuver, which is excellent for the triceps), funny faces, farty sounds and anything else his little heart desired. When his mom came to pick him up in the late afternoon, we were sad. But suddenly realized that now we were free to go to the bathroom.

That's the thing about babies. They are cuter than cute. This is to distract you from the fact that you cannot peel your eyes away from them for more than three seconds. It's for good reason. His foster mom told me that he might actually be adoptable (I had been hoping this would not be the case, to save me from temptation) and I have been mulling this fact ever since. If we had this baby all the time, our lives would be completely turned upside down. How could I work at my job? How could I write?

So for now, I think the best thing for us is these weekend gigs. When we can help give his mom some rest, and we can play family-of-a-baby for a few hours or days. I don't think it's in the cards to start all over with a baby. But you never know. I haven't given up on the foster-adopting of older kids, yet, though. Some day.

So, Mother's Day. Yeah, it's fraught. Yesterday was a rollercoaster of emotion, with one girl alternating between screaming at the top of her lungs, and sobbing, "I'm sorry I'm ruining your Mother's Day!" and feeling like I was going to have to bad-cop the other one, and walking around with a sick sense of dread in my stomach. I emailed an electronic bunch of tulips to my birthmother, feeling as conflicted and ambivalent as I ever have. But I had a nap (best Mother's Day present I can think of) and we all ended up going out for a fancy dinner, where we laughed our heads off, ate some great food, and bathed in overall feelings of love and good will. It felt hard-earned but more than worth it.