Happy Mother's Day...

Happy Mother’s Day – prepare to be disappointed.  At dinner tonight I actually said these words to one of my sisters on the eve of her first Mother’s Day. The words escaped my mouth before I could think about what I was saying and engage appropriate filtering.  Why would I say something like that? Oh right. I remember. Mother’s Day has consistently failed to meet the expectations the name of the day itself suggests:  Mother’s Day – a day for mothers. A day created by men with good intentions possibly? (I’m not sure, I haven’t done the research). Sadly, the best Mother’s Day a girl can have is the one experienced within the confines of her mind.

Rarely has a Mother’s Day lived up to its unrealistic expectations.  How could it?  I want my house to be clean, but I don’t want to have to be the one to clean it. I want appropriate and thoughtful gifts.  I want to be near my children but I don’t want to have anything to do with their care or discipline (oh, let’s face it, a day without children would be amazing – I’m for sure going to hell now). I want to sleep in and lounge in my bedroom for the morning without disruption.  I really could go on and on here. Clearly I am the one who has made this day so complicated. Why can’t I just be satisfied with a card and flowers? What is wrong with me???

Yep, the lower I can try and keep my expectations the better. I am not trying to be mean.  My husband does all that is humanly possible to make me happy. Yet somehow, it’s still not enough. It is really a double standard.  It’s not as if I make him King for the day on Father’s Day. And he never seems to mind. My hopes for a day like Mother’s Day on the other hand are so high I’m doomed to be let down.

So tomorrow I will wake up and try to quiet the diva inside me who will be screaming to be spoiled all day. I mean this literally. I may actually be screaming about this at some point tomorrow. I will tell her to look around and see all that she has to be grateful for.  I will tell her that in spite of her fighting children, messy house and the fact that the day will look very much like the other 364 days of the year, this is actually exactly where she wants to be – knee deep in domestic bliss.

And one day, when my kids are grown and I pull out my box of homemade cards and pictures they so excitedly gave me every Mother’s Day morning, I will cry and wish for these days all over again.