Ahhhh, it’s Monday, glorious, wondrous Monday, day of sweet bliss, generally my favorite day of the week, but I’m especially thankful for this Monday after the “blessing” of having an entire day of recognition as a mother yesterday. Today I can finally relax. The spotlight is off, the pressure gone, and I can sink back into unknown obscurity once again.
I’m a no fluff girl who’s usually pretty honest about telling how it goes down around my house and anywhere else for that matter. A small disclaimer, I normally feel like a very blessed woman and on Mother’s Day, I KNOW this to be my truth but the stress kind of overrode the feeling part of it yesterday. First of all, who put Mother’s Day on a Sunday? This makes no sense to me. If Mother’s Day is about relaxation and bliss, it should not be on a weekend day when all the children are around and bored. I’m thinking it must have been a man who came up with that idea. Granted, yesterday was an exception to how this holiday generally occurs in my house, at least with the two years prior, but it didn’t make it any easier. I had a husband who didn’t feel great, and he was nursing a broken thumb so he was unable to help with much of anything, 7 kids who seemed to be acting like crazed hyenas - noticing the wounded parent and using that to their advantage to pounce upon the healthy parent for everything and me frantically pawing at them like a proud lioness as they hammered away repeatedly with back talk, fighting, tattling, inappropriate words, disobedience, and boredom. It was not our best day as a family; nor for me as a mom.
I really try to not feel let down on this holiday but it can be so darn difficult at times. It’s my own fault because I, like all the other mothers in the world, hype myself up with the anticipation and excitement presented by Hallmark and our lavish American culture, and I buy into it all - hook, line, and sinker. The world declares, “It’s Mother’s Day, breakfast in bed, don’t lift a finger, massages and relaxation, maybe even a chocolate diamond from Jared…. what? He went to Jared?? You don’t say…. Well, you don’t have to say because he didn’t go to Jared; not that I was yearning for a chocolate diamond anyway.
Yesterday went something like this; I woke up, noticed my husband sleeping soundly, a pain induced medicated coma partially to blame, and I knew there wasn’t a big breakfast surprise that I was in danger of ruining. No big deal, I don’t eat much in the morning anyway. I quietly opened our bedroom door, making sure not to awaken my sleeping husband, and in the process I almost tripped over a small brown bag and card right at the foot of the door. I gingerly picked it up and smiled when I read the card on the outside of the contents – “Happy Mother’s Day, I love you! Enjoy breakfast in bed, love Mya” Oh my sweet girl, the one who would never forget a holiday.
I picked it up and tip toed down the stairs, hoping to remain unnoticed for at least 5 minutes, just enough time to make a cup of coffee before the chaos ensued. This did not happen.
I was immediately pounced upon as soon as my weary presence entered the kitchen. Through blurred vision and a blurred brain I vaguely remember hearing, “What’s for breakfast? Mom, can I have juice? Mom, Luke’s screaming, Mom, are we having breakfast burritos again? Mom, it’s Mother’s Day, Mom, I have to get your present, I’ll be right back.”
Coffee in hand, I made about 20 scrambled eggs, fried up some sausage, heated a dozen or so tortillas, put cheese on the table, and then planted myself firmly in a chair to feed Luke and open the plethora of gifts thrown at me. Cards declaring love and adoration, one saying how pretty I look on church days and Easter, how I’m loved because I make chicken and buy video games, (huh?) and how I’m super nice along with some prized possessions every mother desires: chore coupons, 2 homemade flower pens, and a “breakfast in bed” bag holding a box of frosted flakes, a juice box, and a granola bar.
The day continued on with my husband still in pain, running to the grocery store, making lunch, making oatmeal raisin cookies, doing 4 loads of laundry, making beef tips and mashed potatoes, watching 4 filthy kids, covered in mud from head to toe, swagger in on my semi clean home, taking a walk, thanking my husband for the surprise gift card that showed up in my email in box, reading the paper, receiving a sweet mother’s day letter from my husband, watching a movie while half asleep, having a glass of wine, eating some goat cheese and crackers, and falling exhausted into bed, with a happy smile upon my face, eagerly anticipating my “real” Mother’s Day that would begin promptly the following morning at 8:15 – as soon as the kids boarded the school bus.
And it’s here, my blissful Monday. Today is my beautiful, glorious day. I started by going to the gym where the daycare watched Josh and Jada for the morning, ate subway for lunch, came home to a sparkling clean house courtesy of the new house cleaner I found, kids arrived home at 4 to be welcomed with piano and Spanish lessons until 6, and BONUS, I didn't have to cook because it’s half off night at our favorite pizza joint. What a perfectly perfect day this was. Happy Mother’s Day to me. In fact, until my kids are grown and leave the house, I’m going to rename the official Mother’s Day as sacrifice day and the following Monday will from this day forward, be my Mother’s Day.
Just keep livin!!