A different kind of Mother's Day

I saw a video pop up on my Facebook feed this week. I'm pretty sure it was titled "All we want for Mother's Day is..." It was a woman saying how we as mothers work so tirelessly 364 days a year, without hired help, without even sometimes the presence of extended family in our life, and just one day a year, we deserve the day "off." This woman said her dream was to be left alone in her room to sleep as late as she wanted, come out to eat a meal she didn't make and wouldn't have to clean up after, and then drink a mimosa by her pool. But mostly, she wanted to be alone.

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Or maybe have a get-together like this. It's hard to say

I do understand this sentiment, of course. I can't remember my Myers-Briggs acronym but suffice to say, I am an introvert. I also do not have hired help, at least not regularly. (I do occasionally pay a babysitter to occupy the kids, but that's usually so I can catch up on housework, run errands by myself, or spend time with the Blessed Sacrament in the middle of the day -- that is, when I am least likely to fall asleep.) And mimosas are delicious. Perhaps not advisable for me as I continue to grow a small human, but soon enough.

Yet something didn't sit exactly well with me as I watched this. It was not the little self-destructing demon on one shoulder saying "you don't deserve a day off! You need to toil endlessly! Self-care is selfish!" Because I do value self-care, and I know mothers give of themselves daily; of course they deserve time to themselves! I just wondered if... it was too much. Too much weight being placed on a single day, and perhaps an otherwise imbalanced life. I mean, if we are actually waiting with baited breath every year for Mother's Day for our only time away from our kids, to drink a mimosa, or have uninterrupted thinking time, something's askew and we're probably over-doing it.

I'm not sure when the last time was that I truly had a whole day to myself but I'm not wild enough to assume I can function without at least pockets of time where I can completely relax.

It was the wise Facebook post of a friend of mine that helped me figure out just what bothered me about the "I just need a day off from cooking, cleaning, being with my kids" attitude. She challenged mothers to not place any expectations on Mother's Day, because as Ann Voskamp said, "expectations kill relationships." I thought that so perfectly explained it.

I would love a day where I wasn't nagged, where I had nothing to cook or clean, where I could do exactly as I pleased. But when I begin to demand that of my husband, on Mother's Day, I can see how resentment would creep in.

"All I wanted was ONE DAY OFF and here I am, picking Lego off the floor!"

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Life is so hard and overwhelming, there's no time to stop and eat the doughnuts right in front of you

And suddenly, the feelings of joy and love that Mother's Day are supposed to create vanish. It's hard to feel grateful and pampered when you're stifling feelings of disappointment and resentment.

When we cease to place expectations on Mother's Day, we are suddenly able to see the ways our loved ones are communicating their love and appreciation for us. We break down a rigid idea of how things "should be" and become more grateful and amazed by how beautiful they already are.

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This year, Patrick asked me if he could take the boys camping the Friday night before, for just one night, meaning he'd be home in plenty of time to do whatever Mother's Day preparations he needed to do. He really wanted the boys to experience a great camping trip this summer, but knew I wouldn't be up for going with them later on with a newborn, and clearly I'm not in a position to happily sleep on the ground at this stage in pregnancy either. Nor would I be so keen on being left alone with the new baby and Anna overnight.

I was honoured that he wanted to do this for the boys.

They all had a wonderful time and it was so cute hearing Noah and Isaiah's excited stories about their (short) time away with just Daddy. I smiled to myself that these are moments they will remember when they are grown up, and how glad I am to raise them with a man who cares enough to do these things with them.

They were, however, wiped. Patrick lay on the couch for most of the rest of afternoon on Saturday, and the boys looked at books, watched some Netflix and otherwise didn't stir much from their living room perches either. Clearly they hadn't had enough sleep.

Before dinnertime came around, though, Isaiah fell asleep on the couch. He had been complaining about his ear bothering him, and the discomfort coupled with exhaustion brought him down. The others and I ate our dinner and Patrick carted sleeping Isaiah off to bed.

That evening, Patrick began to complain of a migraine. It progressed to being so severe that he was actually shaking from the pain. I wasn't sure whether it was simply a migraine, so I spent most of the night keeping vigil over him, worrying he was going to have a seizure or something.

Meanwhile, Isaiah woke up several times crying because of the pain in his ear. The rough state that Patrick was in made it obvious that I had to tend to our little boy. I gave him Tylenol, some ear oil, a drink of water and made him laugh a little when I looked out the window and told him it had snowed. (And it actually had.)

All this to say, I didn't sleep well at all. The children all seemed to get up at the crack of dawn on Mother's Day morning but Patrick was still sick, so up I was with them. I lounged on the couch while they watched Netflix, then got their clothes ready for Mass. Thankfully Isaiah seemed fine, and when Patrick got up, he was in a much better state, too.

After we came home from Mass, though, Isaiah collapsed into tears, complaining again about his ear.

He asked so sweetly and pathetically for some chicken soup, and who can say no to their own child when they ask for healthy homemade food, especially when sick? So I peeled and chopped veggies for much of the afternoon.

Later on, Patrick said "I'm so sorry you had a crummy Mother's Day."


Crummy?

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I said to him, "no, in actual fact, it was a lovely Mother's Day! The boys had beautiful artwork for me, you made me brunch, and I got to be with all of you."

Again, time alone, self-care and the like are key. But why expect to cram it all in to one holiday?