Category Archives: Mother’s Day

From a Sweet Ass Hole

Good morning! I hope you’re not waking up to a terrible mess-over. A mess-over is like a hangover. It’s what moms feel the day after Mother’s Day, when if they celebrated properly, they took the day off from doing household chores and their typical Sunday routine only to wake up on Monday morning to a sink full of dishes, a pile of laundry to be folded, bills to paid, and groceries to be bought.

My mess-over isn’t so bad. I actually did a lot of chores yesterday, but it was my choice. Cleaning the kitchen and going to the grocery store calmed my anxiety. I even baked chocolate chip muffins and slow cooked chicken for the week ahead!

Don’t worry. My husband and kids were wonderful. They showered me with cards and pictures, and my husband made me an amazing dinner while I caught up on my favorite shows.

Speaking of cards, the homemade notes and personal messages were the best! My nine-year-old wrote me a story about being a superhero mom. He said I was as smart as Albert Einstein and as brave as a chicken in the oven.  He also mentioned several times that I cook the best pancakes. 

My eleven-year-old skipped the Mother’s Day project at school. Apparently, they wanted the kids to write a thoughtful poem and draw pretty flowers. My son walked right up to his teacher and said, “This is not how we do Mother’s Day. In our family, we go to the store and buy the most inappropriate cards we can find.”

He’s right. In our family, we go straight for the fart and poop jokes. It’s humor or bust in our brood, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I hope your family showered you with love and appreciation on Mother’s Day… just like my “sweet ass holes” did for me.

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It’s Not You, It’s Me

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I’ve been thinking for days about what to write for Mother’s Day. This is a “mommy” blog after all. It’s just that my life is so crazy that I’ve put Mother’s Day on the back burner. There’s no time for it. Whaa?! I can’t believe I wrote that either, but it’s true. I’ve packed Mother’s Day up (like everything else in my house) to be celebrated some other time (date TBD).

This isn’t to say that Mike and the kids haven’t showered me with cards, pictures, gifts, and flowers. They totally have. That, and I had a lovely brunch with my mother- and sister-in-law where I ate the most delectable pesto-buttermilk dressing on top of a southwestern BBQ chicken salad. I do feel celebrated, appreciated, and loved (and full). It’s just that I’m distracted. I’m preoccupied. I’m busy.

It’s just…it’s not you, it’s me.

Last year on Mother’s Day, Mike flew to London, and it broke my heart. Today on Mother’s Day, we dropped Mike off at the airport for a flight to New York right after brunch. We went straight from Burt & Max’s in Delray Beach to the JetBlue Terminal at Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport. My heart isn’t broken this time. It’s just tired.

Chaos has become our new normal. I don’t remember the last time I had nothing to do. I don’t remember the last time I felt present. I don’t remember the last time I stood still.

It sounds a lot like motherhood.

I’ve been packing up my house in a very serious way for about three weeks, and I’m not nearly done. In fact, there’s one closet in particular that I just can’t bring myself to clear out because it’s filled with very difficult “toss or keep” questions that make me want to fill a shopping cart at Anthropologie.com instead.

The closet aside, my house is as clean and clutter-free as it’s ever been. There’s a wall adjacent to my living room and across from my closet office that’s stacked with cardboard boxes five wide and five tall and growing bigger each day. Every room in the house has been staged just right…but not for us. Not anymore.

The word that best describes how I feel right now – how life feels right now – is temporary. Mike rarely unpacks his suitcase before he has to zip it up again, and I spend most of my days sealing our belongings in boxes to be opened again eventually (date TBD). I’m suspended between…everything.

I can’t help but daydream about the first night we fall asleep in our new house. I imagine this glorious deep breath I’ll take after the madness of the move is over and the strain of Mike’s endless trips eases up. I look forward to the sleepy laziness of the next morning when the boys climb in our bed too early with their morning eyes and hair. I look forward to lingering over a hot cup of coffee (or three) and having nothing particular that needs to be done immediately. I look forward to taking it all in, being present, and standing still.

It’s sounds a lot like Mother’s Day, and I can’t wait.

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