So, it's Mother's Day weekend, right? And it's weird this year, because I guess you could imply that I am a mother, but I don't really feel like one. I feel like a lady who is wearing a backpack full of rocks backwards, and sometimes things shift around in there, but I sure don't feel maternal towards those rocks.

It's really weird. I know there's a baby inside of me. I feel him, and I've seen him (he's totally cute, you guys), but I just don't feel like his mom yet. Maybe because he doesn't seem that real. Everything is still the same. I sleep all night, I go out whenever I want, and except not having any margaritas for cinco de drinko - sigh - nothing has changed at Casa Hodges.

Quick side note to display the lack of change 'round here: Last week, I had a doctor's appointment, and after our ultrasound, our doctor asked if we had any questions. I asked the usual -- how much weight should I gain, how much water should I drink, blah blah blah, boring. Ryan had one question; Can she still ride a motorcycle?

I guess. Apparently, besides the new center of gravity that Ry will have to balance, along with a burgeoning belly, pregnant chicks can ride on a bike all day. No big.

Anyway, it's Mother's Day, and even if I don't feel like a mom yet, I do feel intense desires for him. I actually think about this a lot, the characteristics that I hope he inherits from Ry and me and the kind of mom I want to be, in order to mold those characteristics so that I can teach him not to be an asshole, or a criminal.

I hope he's the best of both of us, obviously. I hope he reads like I do because reading makes you smart. I hope he hates arguing like me, but I hope he'll fight forever for what he thinks is right like Ryan. I also hope he and Ryan disagree every once in a while, and Ryan has to learn how to argue with someone just like him. I'll pay money for that fight to go down, although God knows that it will last forever, because if he is like Ryan, neither of them will shut up or concede.

I hope if he gets tattoos, which I'm totally okay with, the first one is a heart with the word "mom" in the middle.

I hope I say whatever he needs to hear to never try cocaine. And that wearing a helmet on a motorcycle is cool.

If he goes to jail, let me be the kind of mom who makes him sit it out.

Go to college. In eighteen years, guaranteed, your dad is going to argue with me on the necessity and merits of this, but seriously, just trust me on this one. Complete the task, earn your degree, have fun and try not to get anyone pregnant. And don't try cocaine.

Mostly, I guess, I hope he's everything that Ryan already is. I hope he's funny and I hope he's smart and quick and witty, like Ryan. But I hope he never directs that smart, salty, and quick wit at me, because obviously, Ryan will have to kick his ass to the moon. I hope that he's ambitious and a self-starter and never takes "no" for an answer. I hope he sees how much his dad loves me, and learns how to love me the most, but also how to treat women in general. I hope he'll be easy to talk to and friendly and kind.

A week ago, I watched Ryan lay on the side of the highway in the pouring rain, to change his mom's tire at 10pm.

And above all, I hope my son is that.

****

Happy Mother's Day to the women in our lives. The people who birthed us, and a few more who raised us, changed our diapers, and made us grilled cheese at any hour of the day (I'm looking at you, Oma).

I hope I become the mom that you all are. I'm still hoping to cook like Jan -- that's a long shot. But I certainly hope that I tell it like it is like she does and produce the kind of son that she did. So much of Ryan is her. I hope I am soft and warm and inviting like Luanne, and also cook like she does. I hope I am as decisive as my Oma is and exhibit the same wherewithal to just keep going like she does. I also hope I learn to make chicken scampi like her. And finally, I hope I have the same blind love that my Mom has - the ability to see past everything and just root for my tribe.

Cheers to you!