When I was a kid, my father would never get my mom a Mother’s Day present. (He was very nice at Valentine’s Day, though. He’s get a heart-shaped box of chocolates for her – very cute.) We’d yell at him and he’d protest, “She’s not my mother!” This Mother’s Day I grabbed a page out of my Dad’s playbook. My husband made plans to go into New York to have brunch with his mother and brother. He asked me to come, and I replied, “Sorry. Not my mother.” I thought he’d reply, “Bitch!”, but he didn’t make a peep. In fact, before he left this morning he kissed me and asked, “Are you sure you don’t mind that I’m going?” Wow. I generously waved him off – the queen giving her benediction to the lowly serf husband. It felt awesome.
To make the most of my Mother’s Day, I gave the kids warning. I texted them nightly starting Wednesday, with their Mother’s Day schedule – brunch at 11, then long bike ride with mom, then dinner with family. I figured if I nagged them enough it would sink into their little pea brains. It sort of did. I woke up Alex who was very pleasant, but then went back to sleep as soon as I left the room. I woke up Kevin who said, “Do I have to?” and I said, “Yes. You had plenty of warning.” He staggered to our bed and put a pillow over his face and said, “Wake me when you’re ready to go. I’m all set.”
I put on bike clothes with some Birkenstocks, and yelled, “OK, you two. Ready!” Kevin murmured, “Oh, shit,” and got out of bed. I called upstairs to Alex, who was obviously asleep again, and he groggily called, “Okay!” but I heard him say, “Oh, shit!”
It was a great brunch – no shit involved. I consented to giving them a 2 hour break to digest their vegan corncakes before the bike ride. I hope Adam’s enjoying the nice 5 hour round trip to New York. Sucker!
Can you guess what the boys are going to say when I wake them up for the bike ride?
Happy Mother’s Day, Everyone!