It’s no secret around here that I love holidays/parties/any excuse to get dressed up and eat cupcakes! I seriously obsess over every detail of every siiiingle aspect, to make sure everything is perfect. And then you have kids. And kids (especially 3 month olds) don’t always follow your plans. Today was the perfect example.
I woke up to Peyton’s cheerful face, wishing me a happy Mother’s Day, and reminding me that she loves me because she has sisters and not brothers (it’s the little things, guys). We were hustling to get our circus dressed and on the road, since we had a brunch reservation at 11. And then Addy completely lost her shit. I’m not talking about a few tears. More like a full-blown, inconsolable tantrum. She wasn’t hot, she wasn’t cold, she wasn’t wet, she wasn’t tired, she wasn’t hungry. She was just a tiny bundle of rage. Since we didn’t have any holy water or a Catholic priest, David and I did the next logical thing, play “pass the screaming baby, while trying to finish getting dressed”. By some random twist of fate, we mobilized, and were able to even have my brother snap a photo before we left. To which Dave said, “Seriously? Oh yeah, we’ll want to remember this moment!” – just a time update, sweet little Adaline has been crying non-stop for over 40 minutes.
Fortunately, she stops crying once the car gets moving. Dave and I sighed a collective sigh of relief. An extremely premature sigh of relief.
She’s asleep when we get to the Clubhouse for brunch, but wakes up before my first mimosa arrived. Dave is doing this one-arm swing with the carseat carrier, since it’s the only way she isn’t screaming, while I
enjoy inhale brunch (and mimosas), and then it’s his turn.
Luckily, Peyton is having a great time, sitting between my brother and our mom. And London is entertained by a bowl of black olives and a dinner roll. I made the rookie mistake of taking Lucifer, I mean Adaline, out of her carrier. At this point, strangers are staring at us (some with pity, others with the exact opposite), and the server doesn’t even need to ask me if I want more champagne, she’s basically hooking up an IV. Dave decides that the car settled her down the first time, so he’ll be that dad from the movies who drives the baby around. That way, the girls can enjoy some desserts before heading back to the house. This was code for: take some cute pictures and give mommy some macaroons. We packed up and headed out. I didn’t check the time, but I’d guess we were there MAYBE 40 minutes. And she cried for about 30 of them.
There’s no worse feeling in the world than not being able to calm your child down. Especially when you’re in public. And especially when it’s Mother’s Day.
I had THE PERFECT MOTHER’S DAY planned in my head. We had the perfect outfits, were going to take a frame-worthy family picture in our aforementioned perfect outfits, were going to have the perfect meal, while my three perfect children smiled and didn’t get ketchup on their dresses, and then we’d go home and continue our little parade of perfection. Hell, maybe my kids would even give me a back massage and Dave would paint my toe nails. Was that last one too far? A mom can dream, right?
We got back to the house, and Peyton and London had some fun in the backyard with my parents, while Adaline took a power nap, and gave us all a chance to let our blood pressure settle. Homegirl woke up in a significantly better mood. After Lo and Peyton went to bed, she and I even spent some quality time together by the waterfall, until she fell asleep in my arms. It was a nice reminder that I do have this mom thing down, and I’m not wearing a scarlet M for “bad mom who let her infant scream her poor little head off at brunch”.
Now, I’m not going to go all sappy on you, and tell you this changed my life, I have a whole new outlook on parenting, whatever. Was it a cold, hard bitch slap from reality? Heck yes. Am I maybe going to lower my expectations for having a “picture perfect” holiday/party/life/whatever? Yup.
After the girls were all down for the night, I looked back on the family photo posted above. (the one with Addy, screaming) And I thought about what Dave said about wanting to remember this moment, sarcastically. And you know what, I’m glad we took that photo. Was it the best, most “perfect” Mother’s Days ever? Nope. But it certainly was one of the most memorable!