If mother's day could come once a month I would be in heaven. I mean, not last year's mothers day when my newborn had to go to the children's hospital. Lets skip that one. Or my first one where Ben was traveling and I was stuck in my car with my car hating child and two dogs and begging sweet Jesus for open container laws. Though, I'd probably keep it because I mean, what would I complain about?
This year was awesome. Ben had been out of town for the week so there was adequate guilt/desire to be with the kids. I soaked it up. I napped. I ate. He made biscuits and gravy and sausage and mimosa's. I mean, this man truly knows the way to my heart. The kids were sweet. Only one of them punched me in the face. Thanks, Meyer. I didn't cook. Or clean. Or really do much of anything. And, I got a massage gift card.