“Hey tomorrow is your first mother’s day!” JD whispers excitedly into my ear as we drift off to sleep. “Well, not really,” I reply, “I’m not quite officially a mother I don’t think.” JD props himself up on his pillow and looks at me, “You’re taking care of the baby aren’t you? You’re feeding it, learning about motherhood, and talking to the baby.” I shrug my shoulders a bit, “Well I guess…” “And what did they call you in our birthing class?” I pause before replying, “Moms…” JD rests back into his favorite sleeping position with a pillow underneath his head and a pillow over his face and says, “See, tomorrow is your first mother’s day.”
And that settles it between us.
We wake up to a busy morning at church. The students are in charge of passing out leis to all the women in the sanctuary, and it becomes quite a production. Teens love giving leis to the ladies. Some are quite awkward and just hand it to them; others abide by traditional Hawaiian custom and give a kiss on the cheek while placing the lei over her hair. We herd teens toward women in both services, shuffling jr. high and high school students around as they drape several leis over their arms. Like proud parents we send them up to the front so they can do their job.
All morning long people approach me and greet me with either one of two greetings. “Happy Mother’s Day!” and “Happy Pre- Mother’s Day!” I am thrilled with both, but am shy to respond.
Eight months of pregnancy has taught me a lot. My mom rocks. I haven’t even held my baby in my arms, changed its diaper, or given it a bath yet and my respect and admiration for mom (and other moms) has already escalated. In a marriage, sacrifice is deliberate. In pregnancy, sacrifice comes with the territory.
My friend Jess wants Taco Bell for her mother’s day lunch. She is pregnant with baby number three, a little girl. After she announces her craving, visions of nachos supreme, 7-layer burritos, and double decker tacos dance through my head. I glance quickly at JD and he chuckles, “It looks like we might just see you there.” He now knows that once the words “Taco Bell” are mentioned, there is nothing that can come between the processed cheese and me.
We spend mother’s day lunch with our good friends Sean and Jess at Taco Bell. Only the Groves can spend $20 at the cheapest fast food joint in America. I order three items, and JD gets the Grande meal. We decide to save any leftovers for a later snack. It takes two trays to feed our faces. Two! Lunch is filled with laughter, stories of high school delinquency, and eating our fill of tacos.
JD and I leave with three tacos to spare.
As we climb back into our car, JD tells me the plan. Borders for a mommy book, Suncoast Records for seasons 8 & 9 of Friends, and Starbucks. I couldn’t have planned it better for myself if I tried.
We browse through parenting books at Borders until I find a book about playing with baby. I’ve read about pregnancy, labor & delivery, and schedules, but I have no idea what to do with a baby when it’s awake. Why is it staring at me? What do I say to it? How do I have a deep and meaningful conversation with an infant!? How many times can I say “hi baby!” without going crazy?! Augh I’m soooo out of my league here!!!! You think I’m joking, dear readers. I am not. Little babies are cute but incredibly awkward to me. Toddlers make me nervous. I ONLY RELATE TO TEENAGERS & ADULTS!!!
I slurp at my iced tall, decaf, 1 pump Raspberry, nonfat, with whipped cream, 2 pump mocha (yes, I am THAT girl – but I tip well) and pick up a book about “green parenting.” Moments later I throw the book back on the shelf because, even though JD and I are very environmentally conscious, the first few chapters talk about being “green” while baby is in the womb, including the importance of eating those organic broccoli stems. No need to feel more guilty for feeding my baby Taco Bell and McDonalds ALL NINE MONTHS.
We grab two seasons of Friends for half price and head home, both of us exhausted from the week. The rest of the day fills my heart with contentment: continuous episodes of Friends, peanut butter ice cream, and leftover tacos. As an added bonus, JD cleans the kitchen while I snooze through an episode or two. My hubby is dreamy.
Here’s to looking forward to Father’s Day and the plans I have rolled up my sleeve! Unless of course, we find ourselves in the hospital giving birth to our enormous baby…