To be completely honest: I didn’t want to do a damn thing today.

I wanted to stay in bed, bribe my baby {can’t wait till he’s at proper bribing age} to fall back asleep and just in general do nothing. This was my exact sentiment yesterday, as well.

I think I’m beginning to see a reoccurring theme in my life. That involves … um … not much.

Anyway.

I decided because yesterday was Easter after all, a Good Mother does something with her child.

Initially this meant church. Good Mothers take their babies to church, decked out in their Sunday best, and whisper in tiny ears about how much God loves them and life everlasting, etc etc. At least this is the image I have of what Good Mothers do on Easter.

Followed by a quintessential egg hunt and a perfectly laid dinner table with the finest china and a home cooked meal of ham and whatever else one is supposed to eat on Easter. Green beans?

I’m sure it goes without saying that there was no dinner along these lines, nor egg hunt and church? Thankfully at 9, we were all still sound asleep. Most likely due in part to FOH waking up at midnight, 1:30, 2:30 and 3:30. Then 7. Yeah, that was super fun.

When it was 1p.m. and FOH was still in the midst of his nap, I rallied. I decided that hell yes! We were going TO DO SOMETHING, Gdammit.

Something fell under the lines of go to D.C. and play tourist. So I actually have proof that FOH was there and when he’s older he can look at posed pictures of himself in front of the Washington Monument.

Since I’m still going strong on breastfeeding, FOH, this is consistently at the forefront of what we do. Me, trying to plan how long I have till he might need to eat next and for the most part, hauling ass from one thing to the next.

The thing I realized yesterday is: when you have a baby, 90% of whatever is it you are going to do — it’s all prep and travel time. Then there’s that small 10% that involves the event itself.

In our case, I think we were more around 5% sights, 95% travel.

And holy hell, it is pretty much virtually impossible to get a good photo with an almost one year old. But, still, at The National Gallery, I got that damn picture of FOH in front of the Easter Lillies. I’m still not sure what Easter Lillies are, other than a really beautiful white flower.

FOH, was utterly under impressed by Van Gogh and the other impressionists, as well as my main man, Thomas Cole’s rendition of the cycle of life.

At one point I had a security guard stop me and say, ma’am, are you aware that your baby is eating his shoe?

I shrugged my shoulders and said, oh I’m very well aware of that and I’m willing to bet sir, that you don’t have any kids. He’s quiet and happy. That’s all that matters. A few germs will do him some good.

It seems a few hundred thousand other People had the same idea to hit up The Mall and museums for Easter.

It was beautiful. It was crowded. And we hauled. We were out almost three hours and it was just the right amount of time.

When we got back to Maman’s condo, there was one semi decent photo from the afternoon to prove : we did it.

We were functioning members of society on a holiday. I somewhat followed The Good Mother’s Playbook.

But, no picture with the Easter Bunny. Or any bunnies for that matter. Something to aim for next year.