So, I have this thing. Hallmark probably hates me, but I hate them too, so it works out. I hate many holidays, and I am not even so keen on my birthday. Why? Well, they are all so full of expectation, even when you try to just blow it off as “just another day” you have the well meaning friends and such who are all “sooooo, what is so and so gonna do for [insert holiday, birthday or anniversary here]?!” Then… well, you can’t help but start to think about it. Worse, you may even hear rumblings about what those well meaning people, ahem, loved ones, may INTEND to do, but it never really, well… manifests. So, again… holidays and the such, I just don’t like them. Now… the exception to this is the ones that I have control over, ie ones that have nothing to do with me being gifted or “honored” in any sort of way. I can throw one hell of a party for someone else and make em feel like a million bucks. And I don’t do it because I want someone to do it for me. Of course if it happened sometime before I die, that might be nice, but again its not why I do things for people.
So, then there is Mother’s Day. I told Richard all I want for Mother’s Day is to go to church in the morning (he was working) and then work in my garden. We are snug on cashola, so I said no extra money spent please… and no, that is not one of those “women mind tricks.” Did I expect the ABSOLUTE opposite of Mother’s Day? Nope. But that is what I got.
I headed upstairs, bright eyed and bushy tailed. A laid back Mother’s Day, wake up kids, make breakfast, go to church and relax. Yes. Or not.
“Could you please put your khaki pants on for church this morning?”
“Church!? Why?! Ugh! Khakis! I hate them, I am NOT wearing them. WHY DON’T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!?”
I went to go make breakfast. I had banana bread I had made a few days earlier, some fresh fruit from the farmers market and bacon from yesterday I had made, so I scrambled up some eggs with some cheese for the kids. I headed to the bedrooms and lil’ sis was in her pj’s on her bed playing with her toys.
“I told you to get dress for church..?”
“Oh. Sorry.” She sighed and rolled her eyes.
I looked into kiddo’s room, he was splayed on the floor naked except for his underware.
“I HATE pants, I will not wear them.”
“You know what guys… forget it. Never mind. It’s not Mother’s Day, it’s Sunday, that’s all, just do whatever you want.”
I went to the kitchen and toss their food on plates and put it on the table.
“Come get your breakfast before the dogs do.”
I walked downstairs and sat at my desk and just felt bad for myself. I admit I was grumpy for most of the day. Richard got home with flowers for me, his plan for the day with a card for the kids to sign. They were off playing with friends, he scolded them for being… unkind (I could use a number of other words here), but it didn’t really make a difference.
I didn’t get to church, it’s difficult to go to church with a preteen in her pj’s and a mostly naked 11 year old who refuses to wear pants. I spent the morning in the backyard pulling weeds in a very aggressive manner. Better the weeds than the kids I always say.
The larger part of my day doing the things that a mother does. I did laundry and cleaned the house, make meals for the kids, Richard helped with dinner. I got the lunches ready for the kids for tomorrow. Today is Sunday, tomorrow will be Monday. I am thankful that I am a mother and whilst I am grumpy that my kids really don’t seem to notice or appreciate now the idea of Mother’s Day or all that I do for them, I know one day they will. For now, I will wash their clothes and making lunches and keep my head down. Its my job.