This was the third year that I celebrated Mother’s Day as a mother or a mother-to-be.  It was pretty awesome.  Flowers.  Omelets.  Mulberries.  Family pictures.  Cards.  Sweet pea seeds.  Hugs.  Gardening.  Laughter.  Phone calls from friends.  Jokes with my grandmother.  Tortillas from scratch.

And the sweetest little girl in my arms.

A few weekend memories that I do not want to forget:
    -  In the afternoon, Charlotte wanted milk.  She ran around yelping FIDE-ING! FIDE-ING! (finding, finding) until she found me reading a book on the couch.  She grabbed a waterproof blanket and laid it out, then climbed on top, leaned back and looked at me expectantly.  Um, yes, baby?, I said.  MOOK! (milk), she demanded.  I don’t think you need milk right now, I said.  She scrunched up her face.  PEAS? (please), she asked, eyes big and hopeful.  Oh okay, kiddo.  If you’re going to pull out the big guns.
    -  Grandpa found a grasshopper.  Charlotte touched it and it leapt.  She chased it, touched it again, and it flew.  She chased it back and forth across the yard with us for several minutes, until it became so exhausted that all the prodding in the world wouldn’t budge it.
    -  While Donald was pressing tortillas, my father prepared the taco fillings, including avocado.  He’s been picking handfuls of avocados every day from just the trees in his backyard as part of a weight-loss program for his dogs.  As a result, there are tons of avocados to be had around here.  Charlotte kept pointing and asking for CAVOS! CAVOS!  When we asked whose avocados they were, she said BABY’S!  Fair enough.
    -  In the morning, Donald gave me a card from Charlotte that was filled with scribbles.  Did you make this beautiful art for Momma?, I asked.  OWAGE!, she said pointing to the orange crayon marks.  YEH-WHOA!, she said pointing to the yellow.  BOO!, she said pointing to the blue.  So that’s a yes?, I said.  YEP!, she replied all shy-like.  Yep?, I said.  YEP!, she whispered.
    -  Sometimes when she hurts herself, Charlotte asks for a kiss.  I rarely, almost never, kiss where she’s hurt – this is something she’s learned from watching other children.  When she does ask for a kiss, I always tell her ‘happily’ and then I give kisses.  In the middle of the day, she touched some sort of nettle.  OWIE!, she cried as her finger swelled.  HONEY!, she demanded.  I rushed her home, slathered honey on her finger, and comforted her.  When we washed it off, she looked at it pointedly.  MAWMAW?, she asked.  Yes, darling, I responded.  AP-HEEL-ME KISH? (happily kiss), she asked.  Oh, yes, I said.  Happily.

This Mother’s Day I want to thank all of the people, some parents and others not, who challenge me to be a stronger parent.  I appreciate it.  I appreciate you.  All of you.