Mama's Day

The always provocative Julie Cole over on the Mablehood asked “What don’t you want or Mother’s Day this year?”  And I can say quite honestly:

I don’t want Mark to cook lunch or dinner for me.  Mark is an expert weekend brunch maker.   But any other meal, and he lives up to my moniker for him “The half-naked, fully angry chef”.  Enough said really.  I like to cook.  In fact I love to cook.  So if I could get a free pass to Whole Foods and time to cook a lovely meal for all of us, that would pretty much be perfection.  I do, however, have a baby who likes to nurse constantly, and a pool in the backyard I’ve been begging Mark to open.  So, raw oysters on the half-shell with freezer cold vodka on Saturday night will more than suffice as a gift from Mark.  And many, many, hugs, smiles, and kisses from my girls on Sunday with whatever they want to make me for breakfast would be fabulous.  (And I’m not presuming.  I heard my girls whispering about making me breakfast.)

I don’t want a spa day for two reasons.  One, that much time alone makes me antsy, I get anxious about my girls, and I start to think of the other things I could be doing.  And two, the spa treatments I need are not relaxing nor soothing.  They involve ripping hair off my body and trying to find a soft layer of skin on the bottom of my feet.  Ugh.

I don’t want jewellery for Mother’s Day because I think it’s just odd for my partner to thank me for having babies I wanted to have and worse yet for my girls to think they need to “pay” me with expensive gifts for the pleasure of being their mama. 

Which segues perfectly into what I wanted to write about. 

In the past, I’ve noticed that Mother’s Day seems to be a day to give mom a break from the kids; and Father’s Day is all about getting Dad to spend more time with the kids. This message seems to be very loudly broadcast this year by women.  Maybe it’s because I’m more tuned in to social networks now then ever, but there seems to be a plethora of women writing about Mother’s Day and how they both want that extra time to sleep-in but even an hour is fine; the ability to go to the bathroom uninterrupted or at least with the door closed; appreciation/acknowledgement from their partner; and time to themselves. 

I'm not a martyr, not by a long shot, and I'd love a little bit of all of those things, but not this Sunday.   Because I'd miss my girls and Mark.  After all, if it wasn’t for the cooperative –and fun-participation of Mark and the very presence of my three girls, I wouldn’t be a Mama.  So why would I want to celebrate Mother’s Day without them?  R, L, and baby C are...well, they are awesome! Baby C’s gummy silent laugh; little L’s devilish grin; and R’s sweet smile are the things that get me out of bed in the morning, because they energize me.  Sure, I want to bury my head under the pillow when it’s a Saturday and only 6:30am.  But I spent 10 months, three separate times, eagerly waiting to meet my girls, taking the best care of myself ever, and now devoting all of that time and energy into taking care of them.  And I lose a lot of sleep regretting not being more patient or a better mama in general with my lovely girls..So the idea of not getting to spend Mother’s Day with them beaming smiles at me and showering me with drawings and handmade trinkets (L and I spent yesterday morning making paper flowers for her to give me so that she wouldn’t feel one-up’d by her big sister), makes me more sad that I can say.  They want to make me breakfast.  They want to hold my hand and say my name every 90 seconds to tell me something only the six and under crowd would feel compelled to tell you immediately!  And I want to be there for it.  Too many children don't have mamas and too many mamas don't have children they can spend any Sunday with.  I am truly blessed to have children, and without them not only would I not have anything to celebrate this coming Sunday; my life would be less of a celebration .

So for Mother’s Day this year, I want to be a better Mama – to R, L and baby C.  I want to have more patience and less frustration.  I want to continue to listen to their made up stories and songs.  To continue to play with them and cook for them and take them for walks.  I want to appreciate every single hug and kiss and smile.  My girls are the light of my life and I want them to know it.

Oh, and for the record, Mark can feel free to purchase jewellery for me at any other time.  Though preferably not hand it to me carelessly and say “It was really cheap as the store was closing.”  Which is how it went the last time he bought me a necklace. Seriously.