Mother’s Day- the whole day long

A day in the life. Three kids (George, Dolly and Mim) with me at my mom’s. The other three are being grown up and flying the coop this weekend. At least, I have on the right shirt. I’m waking up to walk the dogs before they pee in my mom’s house. We are quarantining at my mom’s. I missed her and she missed me. Mim wet the bed.
9:30 as promised. The girls want doughnuts.
Duck Doughnuts had an hour wait. Moving on. STOP. STOP. Don’t drink out of the water fountain. Just another close call.
Dunkin Doughnuts had a 25 minute drive thru line and we are victorious. Mum is opening her present from my sister, Amanda- smelling soap.
I lost Scrabble. Amanda won.
Getting Frida in the car usually makes us laugh.
Mim is a dreamy subject for all my photography needs. She loves finding purple coral.
My niece, Jane.
These hands finding treasures- heart shaped, like our friend Amy taught us. And look at her hand. I knew about her hands before I even saw her. Markers of disability. Confirmed by geneticists. Hands are formed before 10 weeks in utero. If our hands aren’t perfect it is due to a genetic inheirited disorder. This adorable difference is one marker of her disability. Her before me. Her life before adoption. She has a birth mom who loved her and couldn’t take care of her because she shared this difference. Disability. These hands were formed while she grew inside someone else’s belly. These fingers with their uneven sections and unusual palm folds. She adds callouses by spinning and pull-ups. She bites the tender skin incessantly and distressedly. My baby. Anup’s baby.
Anup died last year. Mim’s mom is not alive. I can’t imagine all the hurt that will continue and grief for my girl. I wish I had reached out more. I wish I hadn’t assumed there would be more time.  Willie has not been heard from and I assume the worst this time. Maybe Covid. What will my baby do without living birth parents? Unknown grief to come.
She learned to hum to make a crab come out of it’s shell when on a field trip on Tybee Island with her fifth grade class.Branches hanging over a drive make me happy.
Don’t worry about me. I’m just deflating a mattress.
Those billiard balls in the basket are my dad’s. He loved shooting pool. Gidge is watching Star Trek. I am not interested. 
Sunburn. Spots on my legs. Maybe aging/ sun damage. My mom’s quilts. A peace lily. Her new book shelves. Rest time.
I am attempting to pick up fried shrimp. Most of Hilton Head appears to not have heard of the quarantine or social distancing. The shrimp tasted good. We ate at Amanda’s. Including a Publix Key Lime Pie.
Hilton Head Community Garden.George is Peter Rabbit hiding from Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail (aka Mim, Jane and Romey).
My mom. A bumblebee.
My mom’s house is full of her quilts and glorious views.


Our famous pattings. 

I’m lucky to be this mom. I’m lucky to have my mom. I had a good Mother’s Day, but you can see that. 

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