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 actually relax. The spotlight is off, the pressure gone, and I can sink back into unknown obscurity.
A disclaimer, I absolutely feel like a blessed woman and on Mother’s Day, I know this is my truth, but the stress can occasionally override the truth on certain days – such as Mother’s Day. First, who put Mother’s Day on a Sunday? This makes zero sense. If Mother’s Day is about relaxation and bliss, it should not be celebrated on a weekend when all the children are present and bored. I’m thinking it must have been a man who came up with that idea. Admittedly, yesterday was an exception to how this holiday generally occurs, but it didn’t make it any easier. Ryan was sick and nursing a broken thumb so he was unable to help with much of anything, seven kids acted like crazed hyenas when they realized that a soldier had fallen – aka wounded parent – and used this weakness to their advantage to pounce upon the healthy parent – and me, frantically pawing at them like a proud lioness as they hammered away 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 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 of the other mothers in the world, get hyped up with all of the anticipation 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 unraveled 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 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 as to not awaken my sleeping husband, and in the process 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 loudly greeted 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 opened 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, two 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 with a grocery store run, making lunch, making oatmeal raisin cookies, doing four loads of laundry, making beef tips and mashed potatoes, reprimanding four filthy kids, covered in mud from head to toe, for swaggering in on my semi clean home, taking a walk, thanking my husband for the surprise gift card that showed up in my email, 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 which 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 began by going to the gym where daycare watched Josh and Jada, ate subway for lunch, came home to a sparkling clean house courtesy of the new house cleaner, 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.