Please remember, mothers, that there's an apostrophe in Mother's Day, meaning it's your day. Don't let anyone else's expectations interfere with your desire to do whatever the hell you want.
It's your day, damn it.
My thoughts also go out to those of us who have lost our mothers, oftentimes making this day bittersweet at best.
I know it's bittersweet for me.
My plan for Mother's Day was to give my wife VIP tickets to the upcoming Duran Duran concert this summer. Months ago, I asked her what band from her youth would she like to see most, and she said - almost immediately - Duran Duran.
Seconds before clicking the buy button on the tickets, I decided to check with Elysha in order to confirm that we had nothing planned on the date of the concert. It's a date close to our anniversary, and I wasn't sure if our our plans would overlap the concert.
That was when I learned that she had no desire to see Duran Duran.
Two days before Mother's Day and now without a Mother's Day gift, I panicked.
Now it's Mother's Day morning, and I still have nothing.
Well, almost nothing.
- It's approaching 9:00 AM and she's still asleep. This is not uncommon in our home, but I know many mother's who would kill for this. I'm taking credit.
- I swept and mopped the basement stairs. This is a monthly chore that I don't think Elysha even knows exists. It's a pain in the ass, and I'm pretty sure that in the eight years we have been in this house, I'm the only one who has ever done it. Doing a chore for eight years without any acknowledgement is worth at least one-half of a Mother's Day present.
- I emptied the trashcan and replaced the bag. I often don't replace the bag, because after bringing the garbage all the way to the can, the 14 steps required to put a new bag in the can seems inconsequential to me.
- I negotiated a truce in two sibling wars over toys while she slept.
- I bought and hid five Mother's Day cards for her around the house. Each one includes clever commentary, including post-it note warnings, a critique of domestic violence, a Clara-induced error, and a warning against clutter.
- I bought her five large plastic bins for her sewing paraphernalia. One might argue that this is a git more for me than her, since I'm the one who can't stand to see the sewing stuff all over the house, but these bins will help organize her stuff and make her husband much happier, so that's a double win for her.
- I didn't purchase a new sexy Princess Leia costume to replace the one I bought for her years ago but has apparently been misplaced since I never saw her wear it even once.
