What does this mom really want for Mother’s Day?
What does this mom really wants for Mother’s Day ?
Slipping the maître d’ a twenty for a better table on the patio…? The fancy overpriced all-you-can-gorge champagne brunch….? Not. Been there, done that. Macaroni and cheese fights, spilled water glasses, arguing over “who gets to sit next to Mommy…. No thanks. Trying to get a three-year-old to behave like an adult…. Staging the uber-perfect selfie… (no tongues sticking out)…Only to get home and realize too much sugar – everyone’s cranky – the high heels hurt – … This is mother’s day fun ?
As a new mom I wanted all that… didn’t even mind schlepping that heavy-ass McLaren double-stroller out of the trunk… enjoyed being in my own skin as a mom – my new identity in society… glancing across at the other families – all of us cookie-cutter in our cute mother’s day outfits, blow-dried-spray-tanned-open-toed-mani-pedi’d to the nines. But with my supercharged four children – each with their own nuclear engine – Now I know exactly what I want for Mother’s Day. To sleep in!
While I love being social – being out and about – Los Angeles is the world’s best-dressed beautiful people-show… My needs have changed. How I like to spend my Me–time – has changed. Now as I celebrate my ninth Mother’s day… how wonderful it would be to sleep past 5:59 in the morning… how lazy and comfy it would feel…. …my husband brings me breakfast in bed…a toasted bagel… cinnamon toast crunch – not too soggy – maybe some cheesy eggs – two strips of crispy turkey bacon…and a New Orleans coffee with an espresso shot… then rolling back to sleep… a long shower – not a stich of make-up- no heels – no tight jeans – no pressure… no texting… then cuddling in the deepest softest corner of the couch with the kids… opening a few thoughtful gifts and cards… Maybe a family hike – a little sunshine and exercise… Then maybe a pizza. So simple. So peaceful. So natural. Underproduced. Relaxed. Breathing in, breathing out. No push-pull. No screaming. No tantrums.… seriously…. Wouldn’t that just be a little slice of heaven.
Part of my over-taxed stresswoman’s fantasy wouldn’t even mind being sent away for the weekend by myself. Staring at a ceiling – or out a window – at a coastline…from a 600 thread count Egyptian cotton hotel bed – and then – room service…. The solo-mother’s day outing… But… all four of my kids are still under 10 and (not only want to) but expect to share Mother’s day with… Mommy.
I’m done with the facebook-instagram-re-touched-kodak pressure of being the perfect family. Sticky floors, dirty hands, happy kids. That sounds like my kind of Mother’s day! Oh shit….. I almost forgot. My Mom ! My husband’s mom ! My brother’s wife- she’s a mom! My husband’s sister – a Mom ! Boxes to tick – gifts – cards- flowers- chocolates – expectations – obligations to fulfill – no feelings can be hurt – no relative can be overlooked – my 100 year-old grandmother – A Mom! Mother’s day is a full-body-contact event! How can I …. turn off the pressure ?
Breathe in, breathe out. Do what’s right, what’s easy, what’s comfortable for.. ME. It’s my damn day after all. It’s not about being selfish – or insensitive …. because I’m a 24 hour pharmacy, deli, clinic, psychotherapist, chauffeur, maid, buddy, coach, stylist, spelling and math tutor (don’t forget wife)…. So world…give me a break…. Can I please just “create my own” mother’s day?
I love my sleep.… my all-day pajamas… A freshly-washed minivan… delivery groceries… Shop-bop…. Yes, I’m amazed how nine years of being a mom has changed me. (On a future blog – I’ll get into my wild years of clubbing – dancing- partying …and endless nights that began at midnight with a group of beautiful crazy friends… that I thought would never end…)
Ok. Swinging back to that Sunday in May. Don’t get me wrong. I do want cards, I do want thought put in, and I do want presents. Am I a phony? Heck no! Just a normal girl who reserves-the-right to change her mind, and always see all three sides of the coin. Someday, when the kids are older, they can cough up the four-hundred bucks (not including a decent bottle of pink champagne) and treat ME to the brunch. I’ll even put on the heels and make-up. Maybe a Sunday hat. I’ll be able to enjoy myself, having been liberated from strangling my little boys with bow-ties and suits.
The real purpose of Mothers Day is recognition. Moms want to be validated – need to be praised…by their own family. The flowers die, the chocolates (bad for you) get digested, the envelopes are torn and discarded. The recognition is both external – (everyone around us) and more importantly… internal… what’s inside of me. What matters most is those little moments – those quiet sudden, fleeting moments of fulfillment when deep inside, I appreciate myself, reach around and pat myself on the back – take pleasure in fulfilling my own destiny as a giver of life, nurturer of souls – and the backbone of a family. A silly rap song I make up with Ella. A tug of war and hysterical laughter with Rocky. Reading in bed with London. Free-style-hip-hop dancing with Ellington.
In my almost-43 years I am finally learning to find my own special blend of happiness… what matters most to me in my own life… how to ask for it – how to not expect my husband or my children to read my mind… how to be clearer. Of course, as a mom, I will always reserve the right to change my mind 180 degrees on a hairpin turn. After all, I am also a Woman.