I think the problem with Mother's Day is the "day" part. Asking a man, and four children, to pull off an entire day is just not realistic. The day would go much smoother if we called it Mother's Hour. An hour is totally manageable. An hour, this crew can do. It would also be helpful if the schools didn't stop with the homemade gifts and cards in elementary school. That ought to go right up through high school. It is the oldest, less creative teen, that needs the most help in the card giving category.
As much as I like to pretend I have no expectations, I do. As much I like to believe I am blessed with children, and that is enough, sometimes...I don't. Because Mother's Day or not, I am, at the very core, a sinner, who often seeks comfort and ease, attention and praise. I am grateful to know this. I am also, to the very core, a mother. And I feel like on Mother's Day, we are asked to relax, sit back, and not do what actually comes really easily to me: mothering. Cleaning, and making lunches, and entertaining my children...this is what I do. Asking me to not do it is like asking the dog to not pee on the floor. It is impossible.
Unless...you remove me from my family. And as much as I crave so often to be alone...you pay a small guilty price when you choose to leave the people who are the reason for you being a mother in the first place.
Truth is, my family did shower me with gifts, and cards, and a homemade meal, that even included freshly made margaritas, chips and salsa, and a New York Rangers win. I do not need a day to know how blessed I am. I do not even need gifts or cards. And I do not need to do nothing.
To escape a couple of complainers, and a kid on day three of not feeling so great, I put on my running shoes and went for a walk. Because I don't run. The first lap was my mind racing...am I being grateful?? Why so irritated?? Is this totally hormonal??? The world tells me this is my day, be pampered! But is that really what I want??? Instagram shows me family hikes and bike rides that truly appear to be picture perfect excursions...but are they? And really, who cares???? The second lap, I stopped my inner monologue, and I talked to Mary instead. Over and over again, I prayed the Hail Mary. Over and over again, I took the focus off of self, and put it on my Heavenly Mother.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners. Now, and at the hour of our death....
I came home to a set table, surrounded by my family. A family that loves me, no matter what day of the year it is. And a dog, who had peed on the floor. And every bit of it was perfect.