The best Mother’s Day gift would be my nanny working and taking care of the house since hubby seems to be inept in this department on any day of the week- but more so on this particular day, and me by myself but for one hour of meal/photos.
That would be an ideal mother’s day- basically being left the hell alone.
This morning, I arose to the sound of birds practicing for their choir at 5am and debated getting up to get my morning run in before the whole “breakfast in bed” fiasco. I say “fiasco,” because often I am not hungry for a full-blown meal and way too creamed coffee. But I digress.
By 7:30 a.m. I decided that I would try to go back to sleep- only to have been wide awake for the past two hours and unable. At 8:15 when I heard hubby saunter downstairs, I decided to dress for my run.
Stopped by my two eldest who insisted they spend “Mother’s Day” with me, I hemmed and hawed over letting them “walk” with me. Alas, I did what any other mother would do and left quickly alone.
When I returned 45 min. later, I was left to make beds, do laundry, bathe my youngest who only makes in the bed when he’s without a diaper, and to set the table and prepare for my 11 am brunch. OH, I also had to empty the dishwasher and clean up from the kids’ breakfast.
Happy Fucking Mother’s Day.
Flash forward to the late afternoon when I was finally sitting in the lounge chair in the sun and hubby text from inside if I wanted to hurry the hell up and go to dinner. 4PM? “Let’s eat home; I’ll cook” for the millionth time I wanted to add.
In the end, the idea of having to clean up another meal was just too much and I caved into my eldest’s whines to go to her favorite Pea Soup joint. Aside from the other pathetic family, we were the lone patrons of said joint and I was NOT happy when my youngest announced he had to go poopy.
Finally, I took him to the ladies’ room and pulled out my fake gun- forcing his hands in the air and not to touch a thing- as convincing as seen on TV. What I had not known as I was balancing my handbag on my shoulder and his body from falling into the heavily lined toilet was that his free hands were to be playing with the tampon box.
“Mommy, are you in this one?” my middle child said as she came into the bathroom without using feet or elbows and there I was with my anxiety at Defcon 5 over the amount of time my freshly bathed kids were now spending in the disgusting public bathroom.
“Can’t you hold it until we get to the car or home???” I said.
And what turned out to be the best gift was “yes,” I don’t have to go that bad.