I distinctly remember my cousins and I asking our moms, decades ago, on Mother’s Day why they got a special day. Why wasn’t there a Children’s Day, we wondered? Of course now that I’m a mother I realize of course that EVERY DAY IS CHILDREN’S DAY. And while chocolates or jewelry or whatever the holiday industry is hawking is a lovely gesture, I think that most moms want what I want: a break from having to be a mom on a day devoted to celebrating us. As a divorced mom I don’t get the option of retreating for the day to a spa. And there’s no one to take my kids shopping for a gift, which is totally fine. Because what I really want for Mother’s Day is to not be a mother for the day.
These gifts are all free. They’re easy. But I just bet they’re all still too much to ask. If you do, and it works, please report back and give hope to the rest of us.
Don’t Wake Me Up
Just don’t do it. Resist the urge. Challenge yourself. “Sleeping in” (hello, 6:45 a.m.!) is not enough, especially when there are books to be read, art supplies on hand, pets to play with and you know how to work the remote.
Locate Your Own Food (Hint: It’s In The Kitchen) and Serve Yourself
There is food stored in two locations in my home, the fridge/freezer and the pantry. That’s it. Yet my children are consistently baffled as to where things they want to eat are. Quickie Guide and Example: If you want Cheerios for breakfast (while mom sleeps) go to the place where food that doesn’t need to be cold is stored. Then pour them in a bowl, also stored in just one location. If you want milk, go to where the cold food is stored.
Don’t Rape My Garden
I appreciate the thought of a bouquet, I really do. And few things are as charming as a little boy handing you a flower that he has picked and proudly presenting it to you. But I also really love looking at my carefully and lovingly cultivated garden and enjoying it’s springtime beauty- intact.
Don’t Ask Me to Buy You Anything
Yes, you are the reason I’m a mother (I don’t count the 90 seconds with your dad). But your gift is that I’m still here, because I fantasize about escape. Daily. I don’t need you to buy me anything but I don’t want to buy you anything either. Just stop asking for 12 hours. Just. Stop.
Love means not having to bend down and pick dirty underwear off the floor on my “special day.” It’s enough that I used to have to wipe your butt, I don’t want to see where it has wiped on your underwear now too. Please leave the house looking as good in the evening as it did in the morning, or, if you really love me, better.