Mother’s Day is here, and it’s my special day! Yay… right? Somehow, the usual Mother’s Day festivities miss the mark this year. In Mother’s Days past, I spent the day helping my daughter make me my own gift, giving her $10 to buy me something she thought I wanted (I mean who doesn’t love a Cat Book about Cat Jokes?), or hanging up yet another mold of my daughter’s hand that she made at school. I love her little hand, but I have enough molds and prints of those little hands all over my walls from that finger painting accident of 2018 and 2019 and 2020.
My partner does his best, but asking me how to make my favorite meal, or where that one mixing bowl, is or just how many bubbles means the water is boiling takes a little away from the joys of my very special day. Of course, I’m grateful, and I love them for their efforts. But after a year like this one, I’m ready for a different kind of Mother’s Day. I’m talking about a Mother’s Day made of mom dreams. The kind of Mother’s Day that involves no crafts or clean up, no cat books (OK, fine. I laughed at some of the jokes in the Cat Book about Cat Jokes), no cooking directions, no responsibility, no nothing!
Every year, we moms go along with our family’s ideas of what they think we want for Mother’s Day. Not this year, folks! Get ready for it, because I’m not holding back this time! You know what I want for Mother’s Day? I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t want to do anything. But it doesn’t stop there. I don’t want just a day. I want an entire week! I want a Mother’s Week!
Who’s with me? Ok, maybe I’ve gone too far. Back to reality. I want a day to me and this exactly how I want it.
No Flowers
Who started this? I mean, why? I have to water them to see them die inevitably. It’s yet another responsibility, and it’s just not worth it. Plant a tree in my name that someone else has to prune, but please don’t buy me a few flowers that I’ll put on the table and forget about and then feel bad about when they’re dying. This Mother’s Day, I say no to flowers! I am cool with some chocolates, though.
To Stop Cleaning
I don’t even want to hear the word clean. This year has been nothing but a constant clean up. I actually thought once that my daughter shed skin as she walked through the living room. Obviously, she didn’t. She just took her clothes off in transit and let them fall where they may. I don’t know how she even does it with such ease and how they made a trail all the way into the kitchen. This Mother’s Day, I don’t even want to care about messiness, but the thing is I do care and I can’t help it. If I could steal the nonchalance my family has about messiness, I would take it in a heartbeat. What I can do is this: I vow to not clean up on my special day, but there’s a problem. I still want the house to be clean. I can’t stand seeing a sock just laying there alone in the middle of the floor. Maybe I’m just jealous of that sock’s independence and freedom. It’s unclear, but I do know I want to be in a clean house. So I will give you this, family: This Mother’s Day, I want you to clean up like you’ve never cleaned up before, so that I may basque in the beauty of cleanliness. This is better than any gift that could ever be given. (And don’t make me ask you to do it because that’s part of the annoyance.)
To Go to the Bathroom Alone
Yeah, you heard it. I want to walk into the bathroom, use it, exit, and not be disturbed once in that bathroom journey. It doesn’t sound like a big request, but trust me when I say, I don’t remember the last time I was in the bathroom alone. If it’s not my kid, it’s my partner, and sometimes it’s both. It’s almost like I sit down on the throne, and the village comes to voice their complaints. Favorite shirts cannot be found, help with a homework assignment must be done now, and sometimes, it’s my daughter’s favorite place to curl up on my lap and tell me she loves me. Odd choice of location, but who can say no to that? So, this Mother’s Day, I ask to pee by myself!
To Have the House to Myself
Pipe dreams! If I had the house to myself, I would cackle to my heart’s content. I would loudly play music that no one likes. I might even listen to one of my favorite podcasts without my headphones! Or maybe I would just enjoy the quiet. No sound of “Mommy!” or “Where did you put my” whatever. It would just be quiet. Ahhhh…
To Watch TV Alone
I used to watch TV and really enjoy it. I would prepare a snack, get a drink of my choice, and cuddle up on the couch and watch any show I wanted. I could watch shows with curse words. I still use curse words, but in my head and I don’t give a fudge if you know it! I would even watch dramas with a long journey that symbolized the reawakening of inner emotion. The kind of emotional drama that no child could withstand and no husband could stomach. I like to cry at other people’s pain, and there is nothing wrong with that! But those days are long gone. Now, I have to wait until the kid is in bed before I can turn on a show of my choice, and you know what happens? I fall asleep five minutes into the show. Every. Single. Time. I have watched the same five minutes of the same episode of the same show 10 times, and then I just give up. This Mother’s Day, I’m watching a movie early enough in the day that I will not fall asleep!
To Sleep In
I know what you’re thinking: Yeah, sure. Go ahead and try. You’re right, I don’t know how to sleep in. I have no clue, but I dreamt of it once in the five hours I do sleep a night. I did sleep in once upon a time until noon when I was 17. How did I do that? Well, I had no responsibility or anything to do or anywhere to go that day. So, I concede, all you naysayers, you are correct. I will actually not be able to sleep in, but could I not, and just humor me here, could I not feel like I have no responsibility or anything to do or anywhere to go just for one day? I will most likely not be able to sleep in literally, but I could just lay there, right? That’s something! Wow… that sounds more appealing than I even thought it would.
To Skip Any Kind of Cooking
I have cooked so many meals this year. I used to think there were just three meals per day, and that’s even a lot when you consider how much time is in a day. But somehow, this year, the number of meals cooked rose exponentially. I actually enjoy real cooking, but most of the meals I make are the same mac n’ cheese, chicken nuggets, plain pasta, and grilled cheese. Do these things even count as food at this point? This kind of meal-making isn’t so much enjoyable, but just another thing to do in the day. On this special day, I will make no meals!
For You to Skip Cooking for Me
Here’s another no. Don’t cook for me. You don’t know how. It’s not cute. I don’t know why people pretend it is. This picture alone enrages me. It’s messy, and the food doesn’t taste good, and I have to pretend I think it was so cute and nice. Worse yet? I have to eat what you make so that you’re happy, and now I’m filled up on food I don’t like. Fine, breakfast is easy, and you feel confident, but you’ll still make a mess, and you’ll vow to clean it up, but you’re terrible at cleaning it up, and I’ll have to reclean. If you insist on feeding me, order me something from my favorite restaurant! And no, my favorite restaurant is not YOUR favorite restaurant so put that pizza menu down!
To Eat All the Junk Food
This one is controversial and I know it. All the food I deny my kid on a daily basis, I want to just eat it. I want to do it just this once. My daughter and I indulge in treats on occasion. I’m not a monster, but I have to be measured. I am an example. I can’t gorge myself on ice cream with chocolate sprinkles, swirls of peanut butter, and pretzel bites in it. She’d never let me forget it! I would be hurting my case for dental care. All those lessons and warnings would go out the window, along with her toothbrush, which she would throw out in an act of defiance. I want to eat that ice cream dream I described without sharing it, without feeling like I have to take a “reasonable” portion, without feeling like I have to sit up so I digest it properly (where did I even come up with that one?). I want to just throw it at my face and eat as much as I want. What I’m saying is I want an intimate moment with junk food.
To Be Pampered
As I said, my hope is to be alone on this wonderful holiday that celebrates mothers. But if you, family, must stay, here is my request: Pamper me! It’s easy. Get me everything because I don’t want to move. I just want to wear my best PJ’s and eat without moving my limbs. I want the best spot on the couch, and I don’t want to share it with anyone because then some part of my body will fall asleep.
However, I beg you, do not get too creative about the pampering. I draw the line at a homemade home spa, because it will not meet my standards, and I will have to pretend that I like it, and I’m trying to avoid that. So you can send me to a spa, if you must! I’ll try to get over the feeling that it’s a waste of money. It’s my day, after all!
To Do Something by Myself
That sounds so nice and so dreamy. Maybe I could go get a coffee at a coffee shop and leisurely sip on it at a little table as I gaze out the window. Usually if I buy a coffee, I rush in and rush out and down it as quickly as possible to absorb all the caffeine molecules so I get the biggest jolt. Or maybe I could take a bath and just lay in there and poke my toes out of the bubbles. I haven’t taken an actual bath in years. I have been forced by my daughter to get in with her. Half of my body is always sticking out and freezing while the other half is soaking in lukewarm, dirty water while my daughter, and I play weird games where we mix the shampoos and the conditioners into fancy concoctions. (Yes, of course, I think it’s a waste of shampoo and conditioner and it bothers me!) Or maybe I could keep it simple and just take a long walk without going anywhere, just walk aimlessly. I’m not sure my feet would know what to do with that one.
No Coupons or IOUs for Hugs
Moms get the same old gifts over and over again. We are people, you know! I’m particularly befuddled by the IOU. It’s a scam. I can only think a scam artist once got HIS mom an IOU, and somehow, it got around and seemed like a suitable gift for moms. How, I ask you, does an IOU qualify as a gift? It is a promise to do something on flimsy paper. Paper that gets lost, and therefore, IOUs are never fulfilled. The worst part is most of the items owed are not even items or helpful activities. You know what IOUs I get? Hugs. Hugs, kisses, and an “I’ll tell you I love you.” These are things I should just get on a daily basis more than once per day. The IOU is not a gift. I will no longer be an IOU supporter anymore! IOUs must be stopped. And that is my mission on my very special day.
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