I’m back – I think. Took me while to figure out how to get back in here. Prompted by my “bad” mother’s day, and googling “Mother’s Day Angst” and being unsatisfied with the offerings.
Mother’s Day is generally my worst day of the year. Expectations breed frustrations, and all that. My very first mother’s day, P went for his usual Sunday bike ride. He was baffled to return and face my fury that he had gone out - on MOTHERS DAY!!! Since then, he has been aware that this is not a day that he goes out doing his own stuff.
The real issue, is that in my mind, mother’s day is my “day off”. What a ludicrous expectation – mother’s don’t get days off. It would be easier if our family did gifts. They could buy me an expensive gift and that would be it.
Day started well – breakfast in bed. My novel reading was *fairly* interrupted by J, who couldn’t quite grasp why I was still in bed. Even as I was getting irritated by his lurking presence I was questioning myself – it’s “mother’s day” and I don’t want the kids around. More evidence for my internal courtroom: I am a “bad” mother - I am not always lovingly available.
Then I launched into action. We were going on a picnic with some of our extended family – a newish mother’s day tradition. I had thought about buying pre-prepared stuff to take on the picnic as our family’s offering, but I have become a miser and am determined to stick to a budget, so I had planned to make tarts, salad and banana bread. Started well – I can actually enjoy a good cooking session…… but with the deadline of the picnic looming and the kids wanting to “help” with all the cooking, I was starting to get harried. My kitchen was trashed and would need serious attention when we got home from the picnic.
The picnic was pleasant. On our return P said he would tidy the kitchen and I got to read my book for a while. As the afternoon got later, I thought I should check in with P that we were both on the same page…… namely that he was organising dinner. I checked in – no we weren’t on the same page, and when I looked, the kitchen was not to my standard of complete organisation….. oh and the vacuuming that P had said he would do was (I deduced) forgotten about. So I spat the dummy. Completely unhelpful and unreasonable, and now I have to apologise profusely, which no doubt will give P the chance to reiterate my (many) character flaws.
Which leaves my wondering….. why do I think that Mother’s Day should be a day when I don’t have to do any mothering? And it makes me realise so much of what I do – the work of mothering & household management – is all the planning and organisation that goes on in my head. What we will eat, when the food prep will need to start, when we need to get out the door, the moment in the week for vacuuming that fits our schedule – all this invisible stuff that I do automatically I don’t even realise I am doing it….. but when I perceive a chance to dump it……. that’s my idea of a holiday.
I realise having written this, that this is thematic for me right now - wanting a rest from holding responsibility for “organising”, “making things happen”. I wonder if I’m tired of being an adult.
