The Plan for Mother’s Day

May 10, 2012

in Mommy-ville Detour, OldSchool

Back in the day, when the Big Man’s home office consisted of more than just a desk surrounded by enough out-grown baby clothes to outfit and the only lines criss-crossing my stomach were from the

waist-band of my skinny jeans, the Big Man and I discussed each and every facet of Life After Kids as we imagined it. We’d strictly limit the number of gifts given to our children to avoid them becoming materialistic gift-mongers. We’d ban television in our house. We’d read them a minimum of one book per hour. We’d never, ever be late to anything. We’d never be one of those¬†couples, the ones who go out on a date night and have nothing to talk about except how amazing their children are. And we’d go out on date nights.

And, above all, we would not allow ourselves to be sucked into the commercial superfluity that is Mother’s Day. Sure, the kids would make us cards once they hit Kindergarten and were threatened with a frowny-face if they didn’t express their parental feelings in clay, paint, or Crayola. But the Big Man and I? Would have no part in it.

Which was just fine with me. Because if we weren’t celebrating Mother’s Day? We sure as heck weren’t celebrating Father’s Day. Which got me off the hook for trying to find yet another present for the man who still has everything he ever owned. Ever.

It was the perfect plan. Just like all of our plans…

My first mother’s day was three years ago. I was 8weeks pregnant, still trying to wrap my mind around the idea that having a living, breathing creature gestating within my abdomen was actually what the Big Man and I had intended to happen, and not the opening scenes to Alien IX. As I passed by a co-worker’s cubicle on my way to make sure the company toilet hadn’t moved since the last time I checked in on it 5minutes previously, I caught the tail-end of a warm-hearted “Have a Happy Mother’s Day!” drift by. It took me a full thirty seconds to realize that the woman was talking to me.

And it was nice. And even though I didn’t realize it in that moment, it was exactly what I wanted.

The next year, I had an amazing little bundle of joy who had finally, thank gawd, stopped screaming long enough in between feedings to learn to take a nap.

At that moment in time? It was exactly what I wanted.

It was perfect.By my third Mother’s Day, the Little Man was big enough to toddle up to me, dragging the flowers he and the Big Man had carefully selected at Walmart minutes earlier, and whisper Mama into my neck as I did my best to hug him around the bulk of the soon-to-be Little Miss.

This year? The Big Man’s out of town. Which means that once the Little Ones are in bed, I plan to curl up with ¬†a bottle of wine, a box of cookies, and the Big Man’s chair, and for two whole hours the remote will be all mine….

What more could a girl want?


Lissa May 17, 2012 at 11:38 pm

A glass of wine and remote time sounds wonderful to me! Very similar to my evening! :) I hope you had a great one.

Marcie May 14, 2012 at 9:23 pm

Enjoy the wine and remote! Sounds great to me!

Audrey May 10, 2012 at 6:28 pm

Ah a glass of wine and alone time sounds perfect! Maybe next year I’ll have that to look forward to :)

Liz May 10, 2012 at 8:23 am

Last year I got a hand towel with Audrey’s handprints on it. Sweetest thing ever, I almost cried. However, this year I feel like I will be getting zero recognition. Brian is the type who remembers holidays very last minute but tries to pretend like he’s known all along even though it’s very obvious to me he hasn’t…

Jan May 10, 2012 at 7:55 am

Just wait until you receive your first Mother’s Day gift from your child, without Dad’s help, or a teacher’s project, a gift purchased or made on their own just for you. There are no words…

Until then, enjoy that remote and bottle of wine! :o)

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