I woke up to a card with a lovely poem propped carefully on my nightstand and the scent of chocolate waffles cooking greeted me as I walked down the stairs and I shared an amazing breakfast with my daughters and then we went to buy flowers for my mom and then we came home and the day kinda eased back from “it’s MOM’S SPECIAL DAY!” to… “Sunday.”
Most of the time, I just do what has to be done because it needs to be done. I’ve had a fever every day for a week and yet, I’ve still kept on being a mom, I’ve kept on being an employee — and the only thing I’ve let fall through the cracks is myself.
So I guess I wanted it to be Mother’s Day a little longer. A little longer without having to fix a doorknob that was falling off, or soothe a tantrum because I couldn’t find the good sprinkler, or referee a silly fight.
It’s silly to admit that, I guess. It sounds ungrateful. And I don’t mean for it to.
I had lovely cards, and lovely waffles, and I know how very much they love me.
I think I just wanted a time out on the rest of the stuff. A time out from the work. A time out from demands. A day to just…be.
And for parents… that’s just rarely how things go.
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