On Sunday morning as we left for church, we all wished Margaret a happy Mother's Day. Doesn't she looked pleased?
We've been watching all week for glimpses of the babies. We could see Margaret shifting uncomfortably. We would all get very excited when we could see a glimpse of a tiny beak or head poking out.
The babies grow extremely quickly because by yesterday we could see this:
Isn't Margaret a wonderful mother? Though sometimes we can't tell if she's feeding, kissing, or sharply reprimanding her children. Probably all three.
Throughout Margaret's nesting time, we were annoyed with Henry. Where was he? We rarely saw him. He was not particularly attentive. Where were Margaret's backrubs? Her late-night ice cream runs? Henry was probably out playing golf with his mourning dove buddies while Margaret sat alone at home.
But yesterday we saw him stop by with some food for the babies. And this morning, he truly redeemed himself. He swooped in and settled on the nest so that Margaret could go out to breakfast with her girlfriends. Look at her, perched on the wire ready to fly off. You can tell she's already singing Aretha Franklin songs she's so happy to get out on her own for a bit. Margaret, you look wonderful. You look like you haven't even had any babies!
Now here's Henry. He's got that panicked-Dad look. What in the world do I do with these kids?
But he settled in nicely. Look how they love their dad. Good job, Henry.
Uh-oh. Margaret has only been gone a few minutes and just look at the state of their nest. How typical.
Then Margaret came back. That really cocks her pistol--she just went out for a little bit, the whole place is trashed, and the babies are still in their pajamas, watching cartoons. Henry just flew off in relief.
The last I saw her, she looked like this: feathers ruffled, the babies back underneath, and a piece of the nest in her mouth, trying to pull things back together again.
Oh, Margaret. We hear you, girl, we hear you. Welcome to motherhood!