My first Mother's Day

Mother's Day, it turns out, is kind of like your birthday, except even better because everyone knows it's your day without you even having to tell them, and it's a whole bunch of other women's day at the same time so it creates this whole community of well-wishing. As we walked over to our neighborhood farmers market this morning, people smiled when they saw me carrying Jack, stopped what they were doing or paused mid-conversation to tell me, "happy mother's day!" And if it was a woman carrying her own baby, I would respond "and a happy mother's day to you!" I mean, we live in a fairly friendly neighborhood, but this was like It's A Wonderful Life or something. Like I'd been indoctrinated into some kind of club, a special sorority you don't even realize you belong to until suddenly you've been made president. Or everyone's president. Or something. I don't know. But it made for a pretty intoxicating atmosphere in Rockridge this morning-- mommies out strolling about, in love with motherhood.

Jack has meanwhile been doing his best to keep motherhood (and fatherhood) a riveting enterprise. People always tell you how much your kid has changed since the last time they saw him, but I figured the change was too gradual for me to see, being with him every day. Suddenly, though, there has been an explosion of new developments. Or maybe it's just that lying on your back pretty much looks like lying on your back no matter how you do it, but with sitting up and rolling over you can actually gauge progress. Every day he seems stronger, able to balance better, able to hold it for longer. A day or two ago I had him sitting propped up against pillows in his crib He kept canting forward and would face-plant into the mattress and I'd go prop him up again and continue with whatever I was doing. Then I looked over at him and he was leaning forward but not falling forward, he was SITTING UP ALL BY HIMSELF! I shrieked "look at you!" and scared him or broke his concentration, I think, because then he did fall. (Note to self: when kid starts learning to ride a bike and you let go of the back for the first time, don't shriek "look at you!") I momentarily berated myself for not having the camera ready, but I'm learning that the second or third time looks just like the first and the camera won't know the difference.

Danny, having observed this whole scene, made one of those remarks that are so good you know they'd make the cut if there were a theatrical adaptation of your life. He said, "Parenting is such a paradoxical mix of pride and paranoia. Every time he does something new, my first impulse is to be so proud of him, and my second is to worry-- there are so many more ways he can hurt himself now!" Now I know why my dad was never able to fall asleep until all his daughters were in the house, even when we came home from college.

Happy mother's day, mom! And to Melissa and Alison and Grandma and any other mothers reading this. It's an honor to finally join your esteemed sorority.