Mother's Day: The Good, The Bad, The Poopy

My Mother's Day, like motherhood in general, reflected the highs, the lows and the shit that comes with being a mother.  So, the rundown:

The Good
I told Jerry, I didn't want balloons or flowers or cards or jewelry.  I just wanted to sleep in, to have an hour or two to myself at some point in the day, and I wanted to take a shower by myself.  I got all those things: balloons, flowers, cards, jewelry, sleeping in, time to myself and a glorious, lone shower.  In that regards, the day was everything I wanted it to be.

The Bad
We also decided to do a family activity, so we went to Butterfly World.  While there, I had a tour guide say: "Wow, are you due today?"  Me: "No, I'm due 3 weeks from today."  "Oh, well, you're BIG!"  Thanks, lady. 

After Butterfly World, which is all outside and it was a hot morning, we spent some time letting Norah run wild on the nearby playground, and by this time it was REALLY hot out.  The playground is partially covered, but it was still just plain ole hot out, and after 30 minutes, I was swelling a bit and I could tell that Jerry was fading fast.  See, there's 2 things you should know about Jerry:

1. He can't handle gin martinis.  If he has two, he WILL throw up, and then undress and go to bed.  Even if you have people over.  Doesn't matter.  Game is over after two drinks.
2. He can't handle the sun.  He got heat exhaustion once the first summer we lived in FL, and ever since then, he wilts quickly under the sun's glare.

So, on the way home, despite water and full-blast A/C, I could tell that Jerry wasn't feeling well and his mood was quickly dissolving.  After listening to 5 rounds of the ABC song, he was especially unpleasant when we pulled into the parking lot of our condo.  He was clearly getting frustrated with Norah's refusal to eat her lunch, so I made the executive decision to send him to bed.  I was a little peeved that he was going to nap while I re-fixed Norah a different lunch and got her ready for her nap because, well, Mother's Day is supposed to be MY day, but better to do those things myself than deal with Grumpilstilskin.

Without much protestation, he retired to bed to nap off the heat.

Later, after Norah got up from her nap, he was refreshed himself and he made it up to me by taking her out for some Daddy-Daughter time while I got to lounge around the house by myself, so it paid off in the end.

The Poopy
What's parenthood without some kind of poop story, right?  Except this wasn't kid poop, it was bird poop.

While at Butterfly World, we were in the lorikeet exhibit -- lorikeets, if you don't know, are really loud, annoying parrot-like birds that are super friendly with people, and you can pay $1 and feed them and they stand on your head and stuff.  It's cute the first time, but after being in the lorikeet exhibit a dozen times, I am pretty much immune to the charms of these birds.  Still, Norah thinks they're the bomb-diggity so we always go, pay a $1, and Jerry lets them stand on his head and Norah thinks it's awesome.

So, I'm standing off to the side, watching Norah giggle her head off at the birds' antics when an F-14 disguised as a lorikeet dive bombs me, and as it swoops over my head, it drops a deuce right. on. my. face.  Damn bird!  I had bird poo on my cheek and my neck and on the collar of my shirt.

Jerry thought it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen -- which maybe I should have kept in mind when he was later groaning about his "heat headache" -- and he said, "If you blog about anything from today, you HAVE to tell people that a bird pooped on your face!"