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.

 

 

 

xx