A mother of a tale

Officially speaking, I’m not a mother, but I have been known to play one during family affairs. My sister in law (SIL) gave birth to the most precious little boy about a year and a half ago. I call him ‘Baby J’ and I love him to pieces. I also have a special bond with him because I was one of the first people to see him when he was born. He arrived about five months too early; seeing that little miracle is one sight I will never forget. Baby J is growing and despite his surprise entrance into this world, is doing really well. He is one active toddler and is in the phase where he wants to put everything in his mouth. Needless to say, for this year's Mother’s Day, everyone was busy and someone had to keep an extra eye on the little guy. I wanted to give my SIL a break from being a mom for a few hours, so I tried my best to watch Baby J while she relaxed. In between making sure the baby didn’t get too close to the grill and fryer, I made a salad and fixed a fruit pizza. This taste of motherhood was a mouth full!

My in-laws live out in the country, so there is more than enough space for everyone to enjoy and relax. The baby loves to be outside – so that is where we spent most of our time. Unfortunately, you have to watch out for things you wouldn’t in the city: snakes, large bugs, loose dogs, snakes and dead carcasses. Since I appointed myself as the official baby caretaker, I had to observe all of the surroundings to ensure my nephew was kept safe and the opposite of snake bait. We had a lot of fun exploring the area and I enjoyed getting some sun.

The highlight of the day was when I backed into a birdbath, knocked it down and then fell into the water. I was soaked from the waist down and turned red from the neck up. Only one other person saw this smooth move and quickly came over to fix the bath. Thankfully, the 50-pound, solid rock basin fell in the opposite direction of where my nephew was standing. I laughed and the playing resumed once everyone made sure we were OK. My nephew didn’t even know what happened because he was busy picking up pieces of wood to put eat. I stood with my backside to the sun and said, “No, icky, yuck, yuck,” and tried to take the wood from his little fist. He put up quite a fight, but I eventually pried the soggy piece of nature from his little fingers. I threw it into the bushes and kept saying, “Yucky,” and “icky,” over and over. A few seconds later he picked up a stick, turned it horizontal and licked it. How he didn’t learn and grasp my icky mantra is beyond me. I repeated the previous steps and heaved the stick into the air and picked him up. “Let’s go see what your momma is doing,” I said.

I found my SIL sitting in the shade looking so relaxed and peaceful. “Are you wearing Auntie Becky out?” she asked as she took the baby and handed him a bottle. I smiled and said, “Of course not, we are having a fun time.” And I meant every word, but at the same time, I was relieved I could go back to just being an aunt and drying my pants off.

The dance will have to wait

A coworker told me about the Wye Mountain Daffodil Festival one morning while we waited for the company coffee maker to produce the coveted magic potion. He told me it was just past Pinnacle Mountain and a great local event to check out. I’m always up for an outing and if it’s local and supports hard working people, I’m all for it. This festival, I found out after some research, is a fundraiser for the Wye United Methodist Church. My coworker explained how there is a whole field of daffodils and you are able to pick some and buy bulbs and picnic and frolic in the fields. (Well, he didn’t mention the last part, but isn’t that what you are supposed to do – dance with daffodils?)

Also, I had never been to or heard of Wye before, but with a fun name like that, I knew I had to check it out. Parish had to work last Saturday, so I made myself lunch, grabbed a water bottle and headed out.

Of course I “Googled” to get directions and tried calling the church before I went, but all I got was a busy signal. I took that as a good sign, as in – the daffodil field is open and someone is too busy to answer the phone. That assumption I made came back to bite me in the end.

The timing actually worked out perfectly, I was in need of some personal/alone time and the journey to Wye provided some nice “me time.” I put in one of my favorite country music CDs, cranked it up, rolled down the windows and jumped on Highway 10. After about 35 minutes, I finally spotted the sign I needed – 113 North. I turned right and arrived at the church about five minutes later. Not one single soul was around and a line of orange cones was lined up in front of the entrance. My little daffodil-loving heart just plummeted into my socks. I looked around to make sure no one was playing a prank on me – they weren’t, because like I said, there wasn’t anyone around.

I gazed out to where the flowers were supposed to be and all I saw was green – not one spec of yellow. I was too late. I visited the Facebook page for the festival when I got home that night; it looks like such a pretty display. I’ve already (mentally) put it on my calendar of things to do next year. Only about 350 days to go…

Despite missing the blooms, the drive to Wye was really nice and getting to pass Lake Maumelle two times was a lovely treat. Since I was already out and about, I decided to walk around Pinnacle and bask in the sunshine. Pinnacle was hopping of course, but the half-mile trail by the playground wasn’t too busy. I also read my book, Little Bee, while sitting in the big open field. It was so peaceful.

By the time I got back in the car, I was a little sunburned, sweaty and thirsty – but I was happy. On the way home I treated myself to an iced coffee at Gellattes and finished my book. There is something to be said about taking some time out for yourself – whether the daffodils are in bloom or not.