Ah, yes. The Mother’s Day pretending.
Advertisements claim it’s a magical day of appreciation and breakfast in bed. They are, of course, selling something.
Spouse pretends it’s going to be a happy day of family and bonding. And so it is. Sort of.
Peanut pretends it’s a day like any other. And so he yells at people for imaginary transgressions, threatens his brother with bodily harm for watching big kid play, sits next to me for long stories, jumps screaming from the furniture, uses enough tape on a variety of projects to seal the Grand Canyon, and smiles and whines and snuggles and orders and dances and sneers and kisses.
Butter pretends it’s a day like any other. And so he squeals with delight, toddles after his brother, cries when walloped by said brother, plays harmonica, parades through the house with prized possessions, unloads the drawers and cabinets he can reach, whimpers to be held, pulls my hair, kisses my nose, puts cold hands on my belly, bites my face, kicks my hands, and twirls my hair while sucking his thumb.
And I find that Mother’s Day is a microcosm of our lives as we’re living them. There are still dishes and laundry, there are laughs and frustrations, there are tickles and tantrums, there is extreme claustrophobia and hopes for the future, fears and silliness and satisfaction and dread and anger and fun.
It is, I guess, what you make of it. Within limitations. So I have a choice: focus on the limitations or make something of it.
“If you focus on results, you will never change. If you focus on change, you will get results.” ~Jack Dixon
Love the quote.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Today was a day like no other and every other in our household too. We did our best to make some kick-ass lemonade :)
Me, too, jc. Not as much as my glittery greetings, though. Arrived safe and sound. I will be walking on chee and sunshine all week. With my crackers on.
Heather, did it, in fact, kick ass?
Wisely said and greatly written. After quite a few years of agony and tears secretly shed, I have decided to “boycott” Mother’s Day inside my head. Once I let it go, I have been able to enjoy it a lot more. It is a Sunday. I don’t have to work. What’s not to love about it, right?
Just saw this “This had better be quick. They’re gonna find me soon.”
I had dishes and laundry and vauuming and Time Outs and cooking to do.
I had bubbles to blow and helmets to buckle and Legos to sort.
Just like any other day, but nice to be reminded that we deserve (at least) a day.
Ah yes. The selling of a holiday. Yet, it is nice to kind of screech to a halt the daily whining and complaining of older children, watch them watch you as you read their letters, and cards, watch them as they head out with their father to pick out a gift and flowers, to be the recipient of kisses that aren’t meant for forgiveness or bribery. I could be bought with that promise, even if for only 24 hours…
@subWOW, you’re a wise woman. I’ve let go, too. Because I’m lucky enough to have a mom and a grandma alive, healthy, and nearby, I make Mother’s Day about them. Always has been. Why change that just because I have huge bags under my eyes, a huge gut, and a huge attitude?
Also @subWOW thanks. I thought it was pretty damned funny myself.
@LetMeStart Ladies at the preschool spoke of wonderous days where they stayed in bed and were fed and played Scrabble and watched movies uninterrupted. Alone. In bed. All day. I dream of such luxury. I’m happy they had it. I’m celebrating that nobody puked on me. Little joys, eh?
@Maria if you can get them to head out with Pa on Saturday for flowers and trinkets, and then something else on Sunday, you can have a whole weekend! I think you’ve earned it, if not just by having three, at least by getting them alive to their advanced age.
I pretend it’s a day like any other. Out of revenge for Hallmark making me cry over their sappy, stupiud commercials all month.
Awwww, Faemom. I’m an ad crier, too. It’s part of the reason we got rid of the tv. ;-)
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