I am not a fan of this mothers day thing. I am intentionally seperated from my family tree mostly because of who I love.
Generally this is wonderful. It’s absolute bliss really.
However, when mothers day rolls around there is a deep pit in my stomach. A longing for unconditional love I never knew.
We celebrated a “moms’ day” Saturday instead. A full day of stuff we love as a family. Not because we had to but because we want to. An all inclusive splurge you might say. It was glorious. I felt loved. Honest and truely.
This the day of the official “Mother’s Day”, so says the calender, started a little differently. I casually stepped over piles of laundry ignored all week and strolled to the kitchen. I was greeted by a real life family kitchen, basically a mess of things not quite put away and a pile of dishes in the sink. I stopped and pondered who’s turn it was to load the dishwasher and I sighed deeply knowing it would be a long day of house chores.
I called to the children for help with today’s clean up. They came, with sad faces, to have left whatever it is adolescents do on the weekends.
They proceed to tell me they can not complete chores as we are out of a list of things, most importantly in this moment, dishwasher tabs. My son asks me if I picked them up yesterday. I snap back that we were together all day, how could I possibly have picked them up? I feel bad instantly. It isn’t their fault I have a deep issue with today and of all days I will spend it scrubbing toilets and folding other people’s underwear.
I sigh deeply and ask him to “please just load the dishwasher … alright?”
Seriously. Just load the damn dishwasher and stop giving me crap.
Instead of sulking and throwing plates into the rack, my child walks over to me and without saying any words just hugged me. I held him tightly and mom melted just a little, just long enough to relax.
The moment ended ubruptly when he said “no” … no?
As in no, I will not just do the dishes?
He knows how to make me laugh. I love his sarcastic nature, he clearly gets it from me. This kid knows me. He appreciates me for who I am.
Even if he didn’t utter a single Happy Mothers Day this morning.
Even if nobody made me breakfast in bed. Let’s be honest, they didn’t even clean up their own breakfast.
But my boy hugged me so sincerely for 30 seconds I will forgive him for just about anything. Even not doing the dishes.