I’m having a very nice Mother’s Day so far. I got up with Miss T for her usual 4:30a.m. feeding and we had some pleasant alone time (she was quite awake for about 30 minutes) where she cuddled and cooed and smiled. Then she drifted right back to sleep and I went back to bed, where N let me stay until I woke up on my own around 9:45. Oh, except for the few minutes around 8:30 where I had to go rescue my son from his bed – I heard him yelling over the baby monitor (N was asleep with Miss T on the couch and couldn’t hear it). AE was crying that it was too high, he was going to get hurt if he climbed down, etc. I knew making that bed into a loft was going to be a problem.

Once I got up for good, there was a cute homemade card from the kids (I’ll include Miss T because her name was on it, but I think we can all assume she did little to actually contribute) and a picture frame that AE had made at school. It’s one of those craft frames that can be decorated however you want, so he glued little foam shapes and letters on it (a baseball, blue ribbon, Mom) and his teachers put a picture of him inside. I love it. And this daycare may be more expensive than his old one, but now I understand why. It is obviously paying for Mother’s Day gift quality. Ha.

I had an incredibly vivid (and bizarre) dream while I was sleeping in. I met up with a bunch of girls I had gone to intermediate and high school with and we were riding on some sort of amusement park ride. The ride was like a kiddie roller coaster and appeared to be running through someone’s house. Craig T. Nelson was there, complaining that he didn’t like the ride and wanted to get off. Then all of the sudden the dream shifted to the inside of an all-night diner, where we were waited on by one of my co-workers that was working a second job. Then suddenly I was chatting with one of the girls from the ride (a girl that actually moved away when we were in 6th grade so I haven’t seen or thought about her in years) and she was telling me all about her abusive mother and how only her stepfather was even remotely nice to her. She was in pharmacy school at some university in Michigan so I was going to take her back to the airport or something, so we got on the subject of flying home while in college and she asked me if I had used Lieberman. I told her I didn’t know what she was talking about and she acted astonished that I had never heard of Lieberman, Texas. So she took me there, and it was nothing but a tiny commuter airport that only flew to colleges and universities within the state. You paid a flat fare, then went out on the tarmac and there was a color-coded lane for each school, arranged in a spiral pattern. The shorter the lane, the less time your flight would take. And then even though she had just finished explaining that Lieberman only flew within Texas and she was going to Michigan, she gave me her phone number and boarded a plane. The end. I don’t even want to know what it might mean.

*Yes. I woke up to discover that I have pinkeye AGAIN.