Contrary to what the title implies, I had a great mother’s day. My husband and kids made me a very tasty breakfast in bed. I received flowers and cards with promises to vacuum the house and do five chores worth $20 (I think my 8-year-old has an inflated sense of his helpfulness).
For supper, my husband made beef stew, home-baked bread, and spice cake – all were delicious, by the way. He bought an expensive cut of meat, which he thought was called Agnes beef (say Angus, honey, An-gus). Really, I’d hate to think my pleasure was at the expense of a little old lady.
This year, I celebrated Mother’s Day in style…I took the whole weekend off. I’ve been feeling burnt out lately and I had to just get away or risk a complete mental and emotional breakdown. As a mom and a writer, I juggle a lot of things. Most of the time, I can handle it. But I think that never getting a vacation from my job as a mom was starting to wear on me a bit. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a stay-at-home mom. But if I have to hear my kids say, “What is this stuff?” while looking at whatever’s on their dinner plate or “Kiki kicked me in the…” or “oops, I accidentally wrote all over the walls,” one more time, I’m going to go mad. I don’t want to go more mad, I’m mad enough as it is.
So I took the whole weekend off.