“So. What’s the plan for Mother’s Day?”
The question came from either my boyfriend, Jeff or my ex-husband, Seth -- I don’t remember which. Seth was picking up the kiddo from my house last Saturday, and we were standing in my living room.
“Gee, I don’t know, WHAT ARE WE DOING, GUYS,” I looked at both men expectantly and they just stared back at me.
I mean, really. Planning one’s own Mother’s Day is like planning one’s own birthday, and I’ve never been the kind of person who feels comfortable throwing a party for herself (but kudos to those who do).
“Aren’t you guys supposed to like, coordinate what we do? I can’t plan my own Mother’s Day and then force you guys to celebrate me as a mom,” I said, pointing to the 8-year-old human who is so engrossed in his Super Mario Bros. game that he isn’t even aware that three adults are having a conversation around him.
I recognize that it’s ridiculous of me to demand that something be planned in my honor, while at the same time insisting that I shouldn’t be the one to plan it. I mean, I don’t really even care about Mother’s Day that much, except that it means I get a new little handmade thing from my kid. He is very skilled in macaroni jewelry and misshapen clay keepsakes, and I cherish every single one.
Anyway, I’m standing there with my goddamn tiara on, practically demanding a Celebration of Me, and Jeff chimes in to proclaim that since I am not his mother, he has no obligation to plan anything, or even do anything for or with me for that day, for that matter. He thinks it would be weird.
I argued that of course I’m not his mother, but I’m his life partner and girlfriend, and I am the mother to a boy who is very nearly his stepson, so doesn’t that at least get me breakfast in bed? Or a Sunday morning of sleeping in past 7:00 am? Or a day of relaxation that he helps Oliver plan? Oliver is eight -- he can’t drive us all to breakfast, you know?
I mean, is my ex-husband supposed to come over here and help Oliver serve me breakfast in bed? As much as I love Seth and enjoy being divorced from him (seriously, he’s a great ex-husband. Everyone should marry/divorce him, it’s phenomenal), that would be weird, even for us.
Adding to the weirdness around this Mother’s Day is that we are including Seth’s girlfriend in our plans -- which isn’t weird on its own, because she is a lovely person and a mother figure to Oliver, and of course I want it to be her day, too -- but weird because now there’s this expectation that I should be planning Mother’s Day activities not only for myself but for the other mom in my kid’s life as well. And then everyone gets to enjoy the fruits of my planning.
I was pretty annoyed, you guys. I know I shouldn’t have been. It is such a silly thing to get worked up about, especially when you consider that all I really want, deep down, is a hug and a handmade card or a weird arts and crafts project from my kid.
"Settle down, crankypants," Seth finally said, waving his hands around in exasperation. "We'll make Mother's Day happen." Of course by "we," he meant "you" (which is me, Somer, in case you can't keep track).
What I ended up doing was planning -- because these things don’t plan themselves! -- Mother’s Day brunch at my house, and inviting my two close friends who also are moms. One is pregnant with her first baby, and another is pregnant with her second, so all the mimosas for me, I say.
So it worked out fine, and we’re going to have a great time. But I am NOT doing those brunch dishes.
Do you do anything for Mother’s Day? Do you just skip it, or are you one of those people who goes all out on mom’s day with like, champagne and pedicures? My family, who all live 2,000 miles away, usually gather together and have lunch or whatever. If you are not with the father of your child(ren), who takes care of the Mother’s Day planning? And most importantly, who has a great fancy brunch main dish recipe they want to share with me?
Somer is making unreasonable demands on Twitter: @somersherwood