We love holidays in our house. We celebrate everything from Cinco de Mayo to St. Patrick’s Day. We have been known to have Flag Day Barbecues, and once a Ball Voyage party for my cat’s little snip-snip. We celebrate every holiday the year has to offer.
Actually, there are two exceptions to our holiday celebrating.
Mother’s Day and my birthday.
I really should not complain. Kevin is treated like more of a manservant around here than a husband most days and he builds me a vegetable garden or finishes a reduction sauce for me at the drop of a hat. It’s kind of like when you’re a kid and it’s Mother’s Day and you whine, “When is it going to be Kids’ Day?” and your mom says, “Every day is Kids’ Day.” That’s how I feel—every day is Mother’s Day.
So yesterday I was morning I was awoken at 6AM by not one, not two, but FOUR hungry kids (we had our first slumber party). By 8AM I had made two kinds of cookies, emptied one load of dishes, run two loads of laundry, made a batch of waffles, given the baby a bath, and sent my husband off to hot yoga. It made Mother’s Day feel like every other day and, as per the above paragraph, thus feel like Mother’s Day.
(Giving you time to process.)
Actually, I had more fun playing with my husband’s guilt at forgetting Mother’s Day than if he had actually remembered. Like at 7:30AM, when he was looking at the door in that pitiful way he looks at it when he wants to go to Hot Yoga but doesn’t want to ask.
Me: Do you want to go to Hot Yoga?
K: I’d like to…but it’s Mother’s Day.
Me: Go ahead.
K: Are you sure?
Me: Darling, it’s Mother’s Day, and I want to honor all the plans you made for this day. So if you planned to go to hot yoga for me, then go.
When he came home he spent a frantic hour researching DIY plans for building me a path in the garden, then ordering hardwoods for the bedroom I want to redo, then clipping coupons for a romantic getaway to Cancun. And while he didn’t exactly step in and take over laundry and dishes for me, he did rub my shoulders while I folded the laundry and scrubbed dishes. That’s something, isn’t it?
In conclusion, a husband’s guilt is the best gift he can give you for Mother’s Day.
WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Chicken in mole sauce
PB Munchie cookies
Cappuccino caramel oat bars