I guess I've had my first Mother's Day. It felt kind of like I was cheating. Hotel and restaurant people would ask if I was a mother and I would point to my stomach and say something like, "Not yet!" But they all always agreed that preggos count. Auntie G and my MIL even sent me cards! And dear Mr. b had a suite of cards prepared for me: one from him, one from Child Person, and one from Squeakers Squirrel. He had hid them in my bag so I discovered them while I was packing up before we checked out of the hotel room. I was so overcome that I shouted, "I love you!" down to him in the parking lot from our balconey.

But I honestly don't know that I feel like a mother yet. I mean, clearly I'm growing a human being inside me. I can feel him squirming about while I type. But I haven't met him yet.

One of our stops during our mini-break this weekend was a farmer's market/craft festival in Madison, WI. So, hippies everywhere. As you'd expect in Madison. One of the booths had tiny t-shirts decorated with hand-sewn peace signs. Since Mr. b and I spent a large part of the 90s as flower-empowered stoners, and still have plenty of friends of the peace-lovin' persuasion, we figured we would shell out for the over-priced souvenir as a present for the baby child. The earth mother was manning the booth with her young son and baby daddy. She asked if we were going to "use the midwives". Mr. b laughed for the rest of the weekend at my response, "No. We're not from here." We both got the feeling that it was bad form just to already know the sex of the baby! Ahhh, Wisconsin hippies. You never change.