I googled “how to ask for the Mother’s Day you want,” and you know what came up? “10 Questions To Ask Your Mother Now,” “15 Questions to Ask Your Mom So You Two Can Become Close Friends,” and “Questions To Ask Mom Before She Dies.”
Nope. Nope. Nope.
Mother’s Day in my house growing up always seemed mostly the same: Let Mom sleep in, bring her breakfast in bed with a handmade card. Dad always bought her a beautiful piece of jewelry, and we would spend the day frolicking in the California sunshine together. I have no idea what my Mom’s expectations were, but to me it sounds pretty great.
Imagine my surprise when I woke up on Sunday May 12th, 2013, to a crying, hungry, poop-covered 8 month old and a blissfully slumbering husband. Where was my breakfast in bed? Why wasn’t there a delicious aroma of bacon wafting from the stove, as my hubby gently gave me a 10 am wake-up kiss and laid a silver-encrusted amethyst around my lily-white neck? This shit would never happen if Father’s Day came before Mother’s Day. I’m just saying, if we pampered them in May, we’d get so much better treatment in June. Somebody fucked up big time on that one, aaaaaand I’m gonna hazard a guess it was a Hallmark exec with a penis.
I got off track. Where was I?
Expectations. Expectations that we keep to ourselves, because…we think it will mean more if our family comes to it on their own? Like, they pick up on the brain waves we are projecting into the ether, and suddenly realize they must create a handwritten card stating what a gorgeous, fabulous, amazing, goddess of a Mom I am and how lucky they are to have me raise to raise their spawn. (Just an example.) Well, odds are that’s just not gonna happen, ladies. It’s time to step up and let them know how you want to be celebrated! But hey, if that’s not your style, you can share this blog post on Facebook, and bribe your sister to tag your love-muffin so that we don’t have to rely on ESP anymore.
So, here’s what I want for Mother’s Day:
- Do something with my child, but not actually be responsible for her. Like, I want to enjoy her, but I don’t want to chase her, change her, or feed her. Just smile and say “Ask your Dad”.
- SLEEP IN. This should be the easy one. Don’t make me explain to you that that this means you actually have to keep the kiddo quiet downstairs instead of simply falling asleep on the couch while ostensibly being their grownup-in-charge. Bonus if I wake up to a clean (by my standards) house.
- Lots of sexy time without listening for the kiddo. So in this scenario, she has been magically transported to my parents’ house, where my Mom is totally OK with me not spending Mother’s Day with her.
- Anywhere from 1-24 hours of alone time. With a boozy beverage.
- A gift. It doesn’t have to be extravagant or pricey. If this isn’t your love language, it’s OK. I’d be happy with ant traps at this point. (The kiddo has started stomping on them. This is not a reliable pest control solution.)
- To poop in peace. Also, the only poop I need to worry about on Mother’s Day is my own. This includes kids, cats, dogs, and all other poop-making members of the family.
- I do not want to feel like I’m wondering if you’re going to remember it. Or worry that I’m being petty and a slave to this silly greeting card holiday. Or like I should have spent more time with my Mom when I was there last week. So, probably therapy? I think what I want is more therapy.
- I want to be thanked, and recognized, and taken care of to the degree that we can just enjoy each other’s company without it being a big production. I love that me becoming a Mom is only possible because of you, and that is for both of us to celebrate. But in June, you’re getting a big card that says “I birthed you a child. Happy Father’s Day.”