I had a really great Mother's Day this year. I got breakfast in bed with my daughter, I got cards and flowers and I only had to make one meal. A banner day in my book. There was a time when these small but meaningful gestures might not have been enough. I like to call it my "Angry Period." Picasso had a "Blue Period," I had an "Angry Period." I spent a great deal of time mad.
I think back to Mother's Day three years ago when I was in this phase of my life. I was worn out from moving our family to a new city and having very small children who couldn't dress themselves or even tie their shoes. I really just wanted to go to a restaurant and have someone both make the meal and clean it up. The problem was that I hadn't really communicated this to my husband. I thought he should know. This was the wrong assumption on my part; he had no idea what I wanted and really didn't understand why I wanted it. It is really not his thing to go our for lunch or brunch or dinner or even a snack. He doesn't even really like restaurants too much because he often gets sick from the food. I on the other hand, LOVE restaurants and will eat out for any meal that I can.
So when he didn't want to go out, I began to sulk. I sulked all day until finally he gave me a present that afternoon. He gave me gorgeous turquoise and gold earrings. He had been thoughtful in his own way and yet I was still in such a bad mood I couldn't get over it. Who is to blame? No one really. We just didn't communicate very well. I expected Prince Charming to know exactly what I wanted and he expected Cinderella to be happy with the glass slipper. The classic scenario. Interestingly, I wear those earrings all of the time and they pretty much go with everything in my wardrobe. I guess that he got it right after all.
This year I asked some mothers at random how their Mother's Day was. Surprisingly, quite a few said, "Oh, just like any other day." One friend of mine was thrilled because her husband was making dinner for her. "He has already been to the store twice." She said with a little twinkle in her eye. She didn't have to say that she was enjoying the fact that for this one day he was getting a taste of what it means to make everyone happy, ALL OF THE TIME.
I am glad that my husband really got it this year. As my breakfast arrived, rose and all, I sipped on my coffee and ate a bran muffin with my daughter. She proceeded to get crumbs all over the bed which in turn fell on the floor. The coffee spilled on my comforter. So, after enjoying my little indulgence, I vacuumed my room and put the stained comforter in the washing machine and went on about the day. Oh well, I thought, at least they tried and that really is good enough.