You’re doing Mother’s Day all wrong.
Yes, I’m talking to you!
I know what you’re thinking —
‘I’m the mother; I’m not supposed to be doing it.’
Mother’s Day is a loaded holiday– and not the good kind that would make it all go away.
It’s riddled with doubt.
(Just to name a few.)
Last-minute-makeshift-burnt-breakfast-in-bed because nobody planned far enough ahead to actually consider the ingredients you’d want.
A got-woken-too-early-this-morning thanks to the unorganized Gong Show taking place in your kitchen. (And guess who’ll end up tidying up that little number?)
Feeling optimistic? Fine.
A go-out-for-brunch-with-EVERYONE-UNDER-THE-SUN type fun! Endless hours of tech-free family fun in an overcrowded, understaffed, just-above-average eatery with your adorably-dressed cherubs… and your husband… and his mother… and your mother… and they’re not talking.
No amount of alcohol to make this go away…
The whole dang thing is a bust. The day isn’t for you, it’s for them. And the sooner you get on board with this, the quicker we can move on. Don’t let this new truth get you down, my dear friend. I’ve got a plan– but you must keep it under wraps!
Lean in because I’m only gonna say this once…
Secret Mother’s Day.
Fine, I’ll say it again.
SECRET MOTHER’S DAY!
It’s the greatest hidden secret OF. ALL. TIME. And I’ve kept it to myself FOR YEARS! Let them have their day and let them think it’s– For You.
SHED TEARS OF JOY for the shockingly charred what-was-once-wheat-toast, lovingly smeared with what we can only hope is just jam– a freshly blown snot rocket from your toddler’s snoogling schnoz is the only other guess. Yep.
GIVE GREAT PRAISE to the dog-has-peed-on-the-dandelions your kids stuffed in a jar to honor your worth. The unwashed hands, the unleashed passion. The dirt-of-the-earth fingernails sharp-as-glass grossly graze your face as they come in for a full-force-mouth-on-mouth kiss. The flowers (I use the term loosely) haven’t been cleared of ants. Swell.
EXPRESS DEEP GRATITUDE to the Mother’s Day Meme your teen hastily sent after cruising through the entire-teeth-grinding day not realizing it was Mother’s Day. Of course, until his Instagram feed blew up. His kinder-than-him friends showered their mothers with love– and took the time to post about it.
I notice you, Mom.
I appreciate all that you do for me, Mom.
I recognize that my head is the size of an NBA regulation size basketball and it likely hurt like a MOFO to give birth to me after thirty-six hours of labor, Mom.
These are the messages that were clearly implied in the meme from your teen. Lie.
You can roll with all those powerful punches and bear absolutely no fractured feelings towards your failing (I mean, formidable!) fam. You have your thing coming!
Your Secret Mother’s Day.
It’s yours for the choosing. Seize the day!
Set a date. Don’t so much as whisper it aloud.
Go for a run. Heck, run to the spa!
Buy yourself something pretty, or fattening, or frivolous.
Eat all the things you love. All the things.
Invite a friend or do all your special things, alone.
Have a few drinks.
Shop. Eat. Read. Write.
Hire help for the house.
Purchase the throw pillows.
See that movie– in your pajamas, with the very big soda.
Take a nap. Don’t ever get out of bed.
Do all the things. And don’t tell a soul.
I don’t care if you have to call in sick.
I don’t care if you have to lie.
Just get your day.
However you meant it to be. Only your needs in attendance.
No False hopes.
Let them have the day– For Them.
There’s a Secret Mother’s Day waiting– For You.
Happy Mother’s Day.