The Reality of Mother's Day
Mother's Day, though intended to be a day of bliss for all moms, doesn't mean that you can stop being a mom as momming duties are still needed.
All day on Mother’s Day, I gleaned images and words from moms sharing all this gushy-mushy stuff. The flowers, the breakfasts in bed, the sleeping in—it all sounded so wonderful. All I could do, though, was laugh. Because the reality of my Mother’s Day, though it did have moments of gushy-mushy sentimental stuff, was far from a picture perfect day.
It all began on Mother’s Day Eve. (That’s a thing right?) Because I saw several posts of Mother’s Day Eve glory happening around the web. Well, my Mother’s Day Eve was spent trying to get the baby to sleep. She slept 30 minutes to an hour at a time until about midnight. Then she was up again around 3 AM. And again around 5 AM, despite my requests to her about it being Mother’s Day and I just had one wish, which was that she only wake one time in the middle of the night.
Once I got the baby back to sleep around 5:45 AM, the 4-year-old crawled into bed at 6:30 AM, encroaching on my space. At 7:15 AM the baby woke up again and my husband whisked her away so I could sleep in. With the 4-year-old snuggled up next to me, of course.
After nursing the baby around 7:45 AM, while I was still in bed, I laid her next to her big sister and adored watching the two of them interact. This of course turned from sweet hugs and kisses to the usual antics of explaining to big sis that little sis doesn’t get that she’s not supposed to pull her hair. My husband then brought both the girls downstairs so I could go back to sleep. Of course I didn’t. As exhausted as I was, I was even more hungry.
Normally on Mother’s Day, my husband makes an over-the-top breakfast for me. However this year, because of my elimination diet, the only breakfast-like foods we had for him to make was toast with some jam and vegan butter spread on it. It’s not the most extravagant breakfast ever, but the sentiment was there, and much appreciated. I helped clean up the breakfast dishes, not because I had to, but rather because it’s just what I do these days to quell the mess and keep my anxiety at bay.
At this point, I thought about showering. But then I realized I had no clean underwear to change into, so instead I tossed in a load of laundry. I then realized that both the girls’ clean laundry was strewn across my laundry room either half falling out of the dryer or half falling out of an overflowing laundry basket. And since my husband was busy occupying the girls, I decided to just put their laundry away, because having 15 minutes myself to get a task done is a dream come true for a busy full-time working momma of a preschooler and an infant who abhors sleep. Seriously, I was psyched to have that time to get things done.
Once I switched my clothes to the dryer I decided to take a bath. To have some relaxing time, because again, having time to take an uninterrupted bath with two small children hardly ever happens. And I took my time while upstairs by myself. I took my time getting dressed. I took my time getting the chance to put my laundry away—as most weeks I live out of clean clothes in a laundry basket as I try to decide the wrinkle status of each of my shirts and my ability to wear them to work.
Next up, was the moment when my 4-year-old got to hand me the Mother’s Day cards to open. And then I teared up, all the while the kiddo was tearing the envelopes to smithereens. I was too emotional at that moment to care too much about all the little pieces of paper littering my home because my husband wrote the most gut wrenching sentimental junk in my card—enough to turn me into a pile of mush for a few minutes. And then my daughter was tasked with cleaning up her mess, or else a time-out would happen.
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