Lesson learned


I know I just wrote an amazing column on planning the ultimate Mother’s Day, but for some reason, I didn’t heed my own advice. Stupid! Here’s what went down.

For starters, I had two unsanctioned events scheduled, so I knew enjoying the day would prove challenging. Our oldest had a soccer game at 1 (with the potential to play in the championship at 6) and a daughter had volleyball at 12:30. (I’m sorry, but who schedules youth sporting events on Mother’s Day? That’s my day, damn it!)

So my “plan” for Mother’s Day went something like this: Maybe squeeze in DSW in the morning and then perhaps hit Castleton late afternoon, followed by Panera or possibly an evening flick. Or, bag all shopping and plant flowers. Note: At no time prior to Mother’s Day did I discuss any of this with Doo, nor outline my expectations for him and the kids, which is why it all went to hell fairly quickly.

I woke up and came down to a pile of dishes. My children did wish me a happy Mother’s Day, but that was the extent of their “Be Nice to Mom” agenda. When I asked for my cards/gifts/clay ashtrays, I got five blank stares. Then I casually announced that eggs and bacon sounded good, but no one took the hint. Shortly thereafter I left for Clay Terrace, only to end up brooding in my mini-van because the stores didn’t open until eleven. I flew by the house at noon to grab my girls for volleyball, help Doo pack up the boys and confirm that the kitchen was still a pit.

My daughter won, but unfortunately, so did my futbol star. Now I was really in a quandary. I could either skip his big match and wallow in guilt and buttered popcorn, or sacrifice the remainder of the day to support him. Regrettably, my motherly instincts prevailed. I did manage a Macy’s moment before the game, and was able spend his warm-up eating soup with Doo, but we didn’t get home until 8:30, just in time to prep lunches. The last straw? Doo’s comment as I was sulking upstairs: “I think we’re just too busy for you to have Mother’s Day anymore.” Pause for effect.

But, we live and learn, and things will go differently next year. Peace out.

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