OMG, I love Mother’s Day. I used to think it was a totally bullshit holiday like Valentine’s Day and then I realized it WAS a totally bullshit holiday like Valentine’s Day. Blah, blah, blah, you should appreciate your mother every day, not just on Mother’s Day. Except my mother-in-law apparently reared her son right because he acts like it is a big deal. So I decided to act like Mother’s Day was actually Queen for a Day day.
You think I’m joking? Last year I don’t think I ever got out of bed. I can’t remember. This year, when Mason woke up at 4:30 and I wanted to go crazy, I realized I had been sleeping since 10:15 p.m. so apparently he DID get the memo about Mother’s Day/Queen for a Day day but he just couldn’t go without sustenance any longer since his belly is the size of a thimble. Or something.
Then I woke up again at 8 to the sound of my children coming up the stairs beating each other on the head with my Mother’s Day present, which was a really heavy filled pancake pan from William Sonoma. Then I knew it was Mother’s Day. My husband told me I did have to get out of bed to make the pancakes because he sure as hell wasn’t doing it. So I made pancakes and starting drinking champagne. I wanted a mimosa but I didn’t have orange juice. Let’s be honest, why waste perfectly good Piper with orange juice? It’s total overkill.
75 filled pancakes later (and one bottle of champagne), I got my husband to start moving furniture for me. It was Mother’s Day so not only did he have to do it, he had to act like he was HAPPY about doing it. I was delirious. Then again, I had an entire bottle of champagne in me, so that may have helped. The boys were screaming and yelling and Derek was trying to figure out what he needed to do to fix the double-paned window that the Middle Child had shattered on Friday with a broom stick. The boys were practicing this new game of jumping off the ledge of the window, onto the futon, onto the ottoman, onto the couch and back. I didn’t care. I had Ricky Martin on loop. In Spanish.
We hung art. On the wall. Call it a preemptive move since Nana is coming on Thursday. There are pictures on the wall in my house. It only took two years.
I’m not saying it was my best day ever but I am saying it might be in my top 10. Or five.