Technically, it is my 29th Mother's Day, but the first one as an actual mother. Unless you count the cats, then it is my ninth. And the verdict- still a fake holiday. Move over St. Valentine. Of course I will still accept chocolates and gifts. And the phone calls from people that love me. In that case, every day is a holiday because I never say no to a present.
Unfortunately, Jake was feeling a bit illish over the weekend, and has been boycotting naps since yesterday. After two projectile vomiting incidents and some screeching, he seems to be in better spirits, and is chatting himself up in his bassinet as I type. I've been thinking about it, I wouldn't sleep either if some lady kept singing about my cradle falling out of a tree. Maybe we need a new song.
And on a final note- I have been avoiding housework by scrapbooking. Since age six I am a superstar cutter, a fabulous paster, and an avid sticker collector, so now I am putting my skills to good use. I was at A.C. Moore twice in three days. This can get scary.