Last week, over guacamole, chips and tacos, when I asked you, “Hey kids, do you know what next Sunday is?”
You stared at me with your beautiful blank little faces in between unapologetically large scoops of guac (husband, this includes you).
I politely and ever so gently reminded you, “It’s Mother’s Day.”
“Oh.” You replied. Still surprised.
Then I asked you, “What are you doing for me?”
And you gave me more blank looks.
It’s okay, your blood sugar was probably a little low, the guacamole was delicious, and maybe you didn’t hear me over the crunches of corn chips fresh out of the fryer, or the slurping of my margarita between sentences.
I really don’t expect much, and this, of course, is just me giving you a hard time. It’s the one day of the year I get a hall pass to act like a spoiled brat. You get the other 364.
Truthfully, I don’t want anything for Mother’s day. I have everything I need.
Now, this isn’t a trick. I have everything I need.
I love every shrinky dink necklace, picture frame and every little piece of art you created with love.
Especially the card you made for me last year.
I love how you know just how to keep it real.
I mean, I have an Amazon wish list (who doesn’t?), you know, in case you want to get me something and need a little guidance. If you don’t, that’s cool too – I’ll buy it for myself. One of the greatest perks of being a working mom.
If you’re thinking about doing something nice, here are some easy ideas for you:
- Sleep in. You. Not me. I want you to sleep in. For some reason, your supersonic sixth sense detects when my eyelids flutter open and you pop out of bed like a strawberry pop tart. Yet, you can’t hear me when I ask you to feed the dog – so weird. I want you to sleep in so I can get up early and have some quiet time. Time to read, write, make tea, go for a walk.
- Wake up happy. When you do get up, you can come join me, I’ll give you all the squeezes.
- Ask Daddy. For breakfast, to help you find your ballet shoes or your hockey pucks, the ketchup. Daddy is good at looking for stuff too. Yes, I know, he’s not as good as me, but you need to keep training him. Asking him where to find mom doesn’t count.
- Send me away. I love you, and I’m happy about the quality time we get to spend together. See, I’m an introvert. What this means is I need a good amount of alone time to recharge. I’m a better mom when I have lots of quiet time. You could send me away for the day, the weekend, heck – the whole week! I don’t need to go far, I’m happy to go to Starbucks or a bookstore and wander around for a few hours.
- Go away. I say this in the nicest possible way. I’m not being mean, but if you prefer to go out instead of sending me out, that’s cool. I’ll stay home, have some wine and catch up on some sunshine and reading.
- Pick up your stuff. Every time I step on a toy I feel happy inside, even though I sometimes say some bad words – especially if it’s a Lego piece. I really do love stepping on your crap, I get to have these little people in my life who leave reminders of how full of life and play you are all over the house. If I step on said piece of crap too many times, or if it really hurts, it may have earned a spot in the garbage bin. Save my feet, save the stuffed seals, keep your stuff in your room.
- Treat every day like Christmas. You know how on Christmas morning you say, “I wish every day was like Christmas!” It can be – act like it’s Mother’s day every day, and your wish will be granted.
That’s all. This is a pretty reasonable list. I’ll be happy with just one of these free items.
Whatever you choose to do, or not do is perfect. Just like you.
PS – remember to put your gym clothes in your bag
PPS – thanks for leaving your giant turd in the toilet for me to find – I’m really happy to see how healthy you are
PPPS - an open letter to women without kids, soon-to-be-moms, new moms, and moms with oodles of practice