Things you get on Mother’s Day: Cards, flowers and… hemorrhoids.
Most people want to spend Mother’s Day at an over-priced brunch. Most people get soy scented candles wrapped in tissue paper in a glittery gift bag*. Most people want to spend time with their loved ones on Mother’s Day.
I take an opposite approach. My thinking is this…I am with my kids every day. They ignore me when I ask ‘how was your day’. I am their wait staff when they demand chicken fingers and pasta. I am forced to be their personal shoppers when they run out of Nutella. I am their maid, chauffer, masseuse, therapist, intuitive, tech support, emoji interpreter, tutor, and all around bitch from 3 – 9:30 Monday – Friday and all day on Saturday and Sunday. I spend A LOT of time with my children. A lot.
So on Mother’s Day I ask for one thing. Complete and total silence. No one is allowed to ask me to do anything. I am currently behind a locked door watching X-files reruns. It is bliss. High-five to the hubby who is a rock star and totally behind my plan. I have received not one but two meals in bed, flowers and a card. He understands.
Here’s the card:
The copy reads “Mom, I know I can be a stinker”…with the Smiley Pooh emoji on the front of the card. I think this is pretty bold of Hallmark to feature the Pooh emoji. But I go with it. I hope somewhere Mr. Hankey is collecting residuals for inspiring so much feces based talent. Inside the card I get some nice verbiage about how I’m great and stuff. I read the cards, I eat the food and I promptly kick everyone out of the bedroom.
For the next 6 hours I do the following:
1> Pee in every toilet and don’t flush
2> Leave all dishes unrinsed in the sink
3> Put an empty milk carton back in the fridge
4> Leave dirty clothes outside the shower, underwear sunny side up
5> Rip the tops off a dozen granola bars and leave the silver tips lying around the house until it looks like a unicorn jizzed in my living room.
6> Argue with Siri for 30 minutes.
7> Make a yogurt/syrup stew and dip all the pens in it
8> Reconfigure all TV and remote settings
9> Stuff my phone under something
10> Hide one of every cleat and shin guard
11> Find my phone and fill it with nostril pictures
I’m having a blast.
The only down part of the day is that my hemorrhoids are itchy. Like super itchy. Like dog dragging their butt on the sidewalk itchy.
Hemorrhoids- the Mother’s Day gift that keeps on giving. I recall a recent conversation with my bestie describing how her daughter got pinworms three weeks ago and I start to panic. Maybe it’s not hemorrhoids – it’s
I gather enough information to decide I should probably check out my butt. Did anyone see ‘This is 40’? Well it was kind of like that, but no Leslie Mann around to help. Remember I have kicked everyone out. There are no mirrors in my house that give me the correct angle so I crawl up on the bathroom sink, drop my pants, and bend over with a flashlight and my phone trying to record anything that may look unnatural. It looks like something from a horror movie and THANKFULLY nothing is moving….except…except…..my socked feet which are starting to slide off the front of the cabinet. Gentle reader we need to do a choreography check. My pants are around my ankles, I have one hand on a flashlight and my other on my phone, and I’m starting to pitch forward onto a tiled bathroom floor.
“This is it” I think. I’m going to DIE by falling off a bathroom cabinet and snapping my neck. They’ll find me with a flashlight up my butt and the whole thing will be recorded on my phone and pushed automatically to Facebook. My family will suffer mass humiliation and my children will have to change schools. What will they say in my eulogy – will anyone even come? It’s all too much and I manage to straighten up before I fall over and dismount.
So today I avoided my children, avoided pin worms and avoided death. A Mother’s Day for the books and one I’ll remember forever.
*When you think about it Mother’s day is the gift bag’s day to shine. This is for the simple reason that most people with Y chromosomes suck at wrapping. Gift bags were invented solely with men in mind and as a survival technique on Mother’s Day.
P.P.S I finally figured out it was NOT the pooh emoji but a skunk. I liked my idea better as sometimes my kids can be total little shits.
Read last year’s post. Happy Mother’s Day My Ass.