Happy Mother's Day

My first Mother's day has come and gone.

I am officially part of the club. My membership pass came in the form of an 8.6 lb baby.

I think I set myself up for disaster from the beginning. I am one of those people who imagine something in their heads and when it doesn't go according to your vision, which it almost never does, you feel a sense of disappointment. Add this with a massive dose of hormones and a slight case of postpartum depression and you get unexplainable tears and a very confused husband.

So we headed off to lunch at Camp 18, where I got a sandwich that was only so-so delicious (remember in my head I imagined myself eating caviar off a diamond encrusted gold plate) followed by a trip to the beach where the sun was only peeking through the clouds, rather then then hot, tropical golden rays I had envisioned for Wyatt's first beach trip. As I sat in the backseat of the truck feeding Wyatt, crying because they misread his name during his debut announcement at church and because Bryan decided to go fishing on my first Mother's day morning rather then lay in bed with me (though I told him to go he should have known that decision would haunt him later), I gave up on my perfect Mother's day. All of this among a list of other things that had gone wrong made for a horrible, hectic Mother's day.

But then we arrived home. I had fallen asleep, thankfully, on the drive back and came inside to find Bryan changing Wyatt and getting him ready for bed. After some high quality and much needed snuggle time on the couch the 3 of us got into bed together and watched a movie, though we were more intrigued with the beautiful little guy lying between us.

It was at that moment that I realized that all day I had been focusing on what had gone wrong, rather then realizing all the things that went right.

Wyatt woke up at 7:30 that morning, allowing me an extra hour of sleep. That in itself is the best Mother's day present I could have asked for... though caviar and diamonds still take a close second. He also didn't cry all day... not once. Not during church, not on the ride to lunch, not during lunch, not on the way to the beach, nor at the beach, not at Dairy Queen, or on the overly long drive home due to all the men taking a detour because they wanted to see some elk. Which by the way, besides two raghorns, weren't there making the extra hour of driving somewhat pointless. But still Wyatt was perfect... all day long.

And then of course there is Bryan, who tried his best to make me happy and didn't give up when all hope seemed lost. I am so lucky to have him and even if he didn't manage to bring me breakfast in bed he gave me our son... the best gift I could have asked for. He is also a hands on dad, which may even take the number one spot away from that extra hour of sleep. He got Wyatt ready for bed without me having to ask. He changed what I can only imagine was a very icky diaper. He stepped up... when I had checked out.

Lesson learned: life isn't perfect. When you imagine your perfect day, make sure and throw a few imperfections in there or you are more then likely going to be disappointed. Or learn to roll with the punches... and hope you have a husband and son as amazing as mine that can roll with you.

Happy Mother's Day...