"It was a hundred little things."
In our text exchange about the day, my best friend wanted to know why my Mother’s Day was less than fabulous. And I didn’t know for certain. It wasn’t one big thing. There was no major meltdown, no one actually forgot me. It was just a hundred little things that made my supposed-to-be magical day lackluster. So that’s what I told her. And she replied, “I get it. Here too.”
It sucks because moms are supposed to feel really awesome on Mother’s Day
We give and love and bend over backward every other day of the year. Can’t we have just one?
One day where we don’t pack the snacks, find the lost shoes, and confirm that everyone has their lovie. One day where we choose the meals and activities and receive a little royal treatment. One day relieved of the cleaning and monotonous responsibility. One day to fuel us up for another year of lovin’ and livin’.
But, alas, this year, that was too much to ask
We left late for our outing. My kids complained about the heat. My boys fought. One even said a cuss word. The restaurant I wanted to go to turned out to be closed. When we finally did pray over our meal, my little angels forgot to even add “and thank you for Mom.” My husband opted to take a nap on the drive home; leaving me alone with my thoughts.
That’s when I spiraled. I should have just taken a day for myself.
Yes, my husband wrote me a sweet card. The kids lavished hugs on me, and my 4-year-old yelled, “You’re the best mom in the whole world” when I bought him a strawberry snowcone after our hike. I got to take a bath and read at the close of the day. It was all OK. Just not everything I had hoped.
I admit, I tend to walk the line of “I have no expectations” while simultaneously having a really long list of expectations. Working on it, promise! I want a really thoughtful gift, but I also want to buy myself something so it’s just right. I want Mother’s Day to be a big deal, but I also don’t want to be the center of attention. I want to be with my family while also craving a day to myself.
It's such a catch-22
Is it my fault? Hallmark’s fault? My husband’s fault? Do commercialized holidays really just jazz me up and leave me feeling blah in the end?
I don’t think I’m alone when it comes to disliking the buildup to Mother’s Day. Perfect days don’t exist and yet we’ve been sold a very glamorous picture of what Mother’s Day should be like. Had today, a random weekday, been Mother’s Day, it would have earned a 9/10. Solid breakfast, productive errands, sweet baby snuggles, a good run, kind kiddos that checked off chores without reminders — practically a hundred little things that have made today good.
And I think that’s where it all lies
The calendar day of Mother’s Day is never going to be my day. Unless I’m careful, I’ll always have skewed expectations and a little pity party about how it ended. My everyday life, though? It’s pretty wonderful.
A hundred little things.
One hundred good, little things that make most every day a day I’m happy to be a mom. This week, I’m noticing it all. Mother’s Day, you’re not my cup of tea. But that’s OK, because the other 364 days of the year, I’m pleased as punch with this mom gig and the crew of sweet kids who call me their own.
