This weekend, I went home to do some nursery shopping with my mom. It was a fun girls weekend, and we got lots of cute fabric and ideas (I am sure there will be photos when the final product is ready for presentation).
Saturday night, I woke up not feeling right. A little chilled, headachy, the whole nine yards. I sat there trying to decide what to do for an hour or so. On one hand, well...I'm 30. On the other hand, I am 30...and pregnant, and freaked out that if I had a fever it could be passed to my baby, and realizing I did not know where my parents kept the tylenol or thermometer.
That is what led me to stand over my mother at 2:00 am whispering (well, it started as a whisper)... "Mama...Mama...Mama!"
Minutes later, I found myself back in bed. My temperature had been taken (normal), tylenol dispensed (doctor approved), and I was sipping on a fizzy drink (universal comfort drink). While I am sure that my mother thought she was well past the days of the 30 year old waking her in the dead of night saying she felt sick, she didn't bat an eyelash. I, in turn, was comforted enough to go back to sleep (I asked my mom if she was also able to go back to sleep...she said yes...eventually).
I started thinking about how I have always felt that way around my parents...they may not have known what to do in every situation, but their children would never have guessed. I have grown up comforted by the fact that no matter what, I was in capable hands. This year we have been in really tough situations. Even in the ones they couldn't fix, the presence of my parents gave me strength I would not have had otherwise. My biggest hope is that, whether she is 3 or 30, Gracie will be able to come to me in the middle of the night knowing no matter what the situation, her Mama (and Daddy) will help make it better.