Today is Mother’s Day and I am stoked! When you become a stay-at-home Mom (hyphens and everything) you realize that you literally have no days off. Those hyphens are there because the job NEVER ENDS. No one tells you this, but it’s true. Never Ends. You really only have the one day off. Mother’s day, that’s my work holiday. My bank is closed, the day is mine.
(John just came in asking me to change the baby and make him a smoothie, the baby, not John. John doesn’t drink smoothies unless you count the times the Little Prince flings it at him and he wipes it off his arm with his tongue. Anyway, I shouted “WORK HOLIDAY! The bank is closed!” and threatened to shiv him with my rigidly pointed finger. He looked at me like I was crazy. (I am, but that’s not the point.) I still made the smoothie but only after John agreed to the legitimacy of my work holiday. Some husbands make their wives breakfast in bed for Mother’s Day. My husband tried to foist the eight hours I spent driving back and forth across the state to see his mother as my Mother’s day gift because it was my idea. Nice try, lawyer. Not gonna happen.)
My plan is to garden. Spend as long as I want, outside with my audiobook headphones on. It’s gonna be bliss. Hot, sweaty, composting bliss.
But first I want to tell you about my Mom.