Thoughts on Mother's Day

We're having a baby, I know that. You'd think it would then be natural to start celebrating Mother's Day personally. And it is, but my husband and I, I suppose, are odd. We've been celebrating Mother's Day and Father's Day for years. We already considered ourselves parents . . . to our girls.

Sadie and Muggles, our dog and cat, are our babies. I keep saying they are the best things on four paws, and I mean it every time. I feel like a mother to them. I worry about them. I want them to be happy. I don't want them to want for anything they need. I hate to take them to the vet (they hate it), but I do it for their own good. When the weather is nice, I want to take them out. We buy gifts for them at Christmas (pathetic but true). So even when we were in the deep, dark depths of TTC, I never minded Mother's Day.

I suppose I've also enjoyed Mother's Day because that's another day in which my husband makes me feel special. We didn't do much this weekend - no going out to eat or fancy gifts. There's no new diamond bracelet on my wrist. Instead, I now have the All Creatures Great and Small series of books by James Herriot (aka by his true name, Alfred Wight). Four books. That's it. But I love them. I've wanted them. They're perfect.

And the card. I haven't mentioned the card. DH puts as much thought into the cards as he does the gifts. The words they hold may not be his, but I know he means them. He buys cards no because they're pretty but because they say what he feels.

My husband has always made me feel special on Mother's Day. Always. In what he says and what he does . . . how did I become so lucky as to find such a man?

Those are my thoughts on Mother's Day. It's not a day to dread. It's another excuse to embrace and appreciate each other, to appreciate what you have together.