Why I hate Mother's Day
May 12th 2008 23:38
I think mothers are bloody heroes. Each and every one. Those with or without post-natal depression. Those who find motherhood easy-as-pie and those who claw their way through each day. On a day like Mothers Day, I think of mothers – bless them all, the long and the short and the tall.
I am all for a celebration of the mostly thankless litany of chores that mothers do for others day in and day out. A day off. A day where mothers are both seen and cheered. When we take off our aprons, come out of the kitchens and have our breakfasts cooked, served and blessedly CLEANED up by other people.
But there is a massive flaw design in Mother’s Day. Sufficient, I reckon to justify a complete recall. It revolves around the disastrous indulgence in expectation, reminiscent of the devastating disappointment New Years’ Eve often turns into.
I love the enthusiasm for the concept of Mother’s Day. But invariably things go pear-shaped very early on. By way of illustration: on Saturday, I discovered I had been given a lovely pre-Mother’s Day gift by my kids. It began with the scratchy feeling on my scalp. Upon inspection, I discovered I have lice. When I checked my children’s hair, they had it too. I must have contracted this when lying head-to-head with my son this past week in bed, reading him bedtime stories. I spent the first half of my Mother’s Day weekend KP 24-ed up to my eyeballs. I shaved my son’s head. I spent an hour combing through my daughter’s hair and another hour through my own. I did seven loads of laundry. By the time Mother’s Day got here, I was a little over it.
I was woken on Sunday morning at 6am. Is this one too hard to work out - that it is sleep mothers crave more than a Myers gift voucher or bunch of overpriced roses? My daughter had gone to so much trouble to make me the most spectacular Mother’s Day card. But this in turn gave my son performance anxiety so he started to cry before he even handed his over. ‘I’m sorry my card isn’t as good as hers… mine sucks.’ So there I was, managing sibling rivalry at 6.10 on a Sunday morning when all I wanted was a little more dream time.
Thankfully I was spared breakfast in bed. I realize this sounds crass, but I have never fancied forcing down an early breakfast made by hands that have more than likely forgotten to wash after flushing. It may be the thought that counts, but think of the germs…
I was lavished with some very thoughtfully chosen GO-LO gifts purchased by my kids at the Mother’s Day stall at school. I was just grateful my children didn’t repurchase the gifts I had sent in (which did happen a couple of years ago). For those who don’t know how the system works, each child brings in a present to contribute to the stall, and then $5 to buy a present. It ultimately works out so that you, the mother pays $10 for your own Mother’s Day gift which you could have purchased for $2 had you really really wanted a mug that says YUMMY MUMMY and some floating candles in the shape of frangi panis.
My husband went to get coffees and a newspaper from the village, and returned with free NRL cards for my son, which put my daughter in a ‘what-about-me?’ mood which lasted throughout breakfast. Breakfast, by the way, which was supposed to be a HUGE treat, took 45 minutes to come, given how full our favourite café was with other mothers straining to smile through their Mother’s Day breakfast. I sank into a gloom through my son’s ‘I’m-so-hungry-I’m-gonna-die’ wingeing. And my daughter kept up her huff and even started to do that sulky thing pre-teen daughters are wont to do when mothers ‘just don’t get it.’ I’m sure if we’d just stayed home and had Weetbix everyone would have had a much better morning.
To be honest, I don’t get it. I don’t get what goes wrong on Mothers’ Day. I don’t need expensive gifts or to be lavished with too much attention or be told I am the World’s Best Mother when the contents of my children’s lunchboxes is clear evidence to the contrary.
Some ideas for how to give your mother a spectacular mothers’ day:
1. let her sleep in
2. run her a bath
3. feed the cats
4. do the laundry
5. unload the dishwasher
6. get takeouts
7. no fighting
8. no fussing
9. no whingeing
10. A moratorium – for twelve hours of sunlight - on mother chores.
I think the problem is that on Mother’s Day I just want to feel like something other than a mother.
I am not the Grinch who stole Mothers’ Day. I think I am just the grump that was woken up too early.
www.joannefedler.com
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Comment by Jayne Kearney
Writers In Writing (and other writing)
Love it, love it, love it. So funny and real.
It made me wonder if any Dads have a similar Fathers' Day angst. I bet my typing fingers they don't.
Jayne
Comment by Anne from SA
so so so true !!! I think I will print it out and give it to the boys for next year !!! maybe then I'll get to sleep in.
I enjoy reading your blog.
Take care
Love
Anne
Comment by Anne from SA
so so so true !!! I think I will print it out and give it to the boys for next year !!! maybe then I'll get to sleep in.
I enjoy reading your blog.
Take care
Love
Anne