“What do you want for Mother’s Day, Mom?” My son asked.
I thought for a minute.
I want to sleep in, and by sleep in, I don’t want a child coming to my side of the bed during a middle-of-the-night thunderstorm or with an iPad that doesn’t work or a boo-boo that needs a band-aid. I want to sleep uninterrupted until my body tells me I have to get out of bed.
I don’t want to brew the coffee or make breakfast that will go un-eaten and left abandoned on the table for me to clean up. I don’t want to pour the orange juice or argue over which cup each kid wants. I want to pour my coffee and drink it while it’s hot. I want it refilled for me only to leave the cup on the coffee table for someone else to pick up and wash.
I don’t want to pick out clothes or find underwear or matching socks or tie shoes. I don’t want to fix anyone’s hair. I don’t want to even walk up the stairs before we have to leave the house.
I want to shower without feeling rushed, alone in the bathroom with the door closed and listen to music as I put on my make-up and fix my hair. Alone.
I don’t want to decide what we eat for lunch.
I don’t want to wipe anyone’s bottom or clean anyone’s nose or pick up dirty clothes or mop up any spills.
I don’t want to spend an hour cooking a meal that everyone will complain about when I serve it after setting the table myself and pouring everyone a drink.
I don’t want to bathe the kids, or fold the laundry and put it away. I don’t want to go through the back packs and decipher what needs to be done for the upcoming week.
I want to sit on the couch all day and watch mindless television or get sucked into a good book and ignore the world around me. All day long.
I want to go to bed and fall instantly asleep without worrying about how everything will get done the next day.
I suddenly realized I had an answer for my son.
I looked at my little boy and said, “I want to be Dad.”
He laughed and with a big crooked smile said, “But you’re a girl.”
So basically it sounds like you want to just stay in the bed all day, alone, with a few bottles of wine. 😉
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Sounds like a plan to me. But then I have to get up the next day with a dry mouth and a headache, so maybe just a glass of wine. No a bottle. Yes, two bottles. I don’t really know.
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Perfection. And for the record, I want to be a dad too.
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Just for one day.
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I love this! This is what I want EXACTLY! You’re a genius!
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I’m no genius. Just an angry sleep deprived woman.
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*grins* Ohboy…
I hope you get the chance, Squishy. *hugs*
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Me too! I need a real *hug* soon.
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YES! I wonder if we can wrangle it…
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Oh my god. Yes!!! I’ve said many times that I’d make such a great dad! You nailed it. Hope all your dreams come true this Mother’s Day.
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Thank you!! I’m sending you a “world’s greatest dad” mug.
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I’d rock it like a champ… amongst the overly-enthusiastic PTA moms who look at me like the slack-ass that I kind of am in that realm.
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Let’s drink wine out of our “world’s greatest dad” mugs and eat store bought cookies at the next PTA bake sale.
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All. Day. Long. That.
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Ha! So true, Mandi. I usually get to play Dad on Mother’s Day – it’s wonderful. I don’t have to do a thing, but I still worry about how things will get done. It’s not a miracle day, after all.
Btw – FB showed me my post from a year ago earlier this week – the debut of Dear Stephanie! Happy publication anniversary, my friend.
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Thank you Dana! And yay for being dad.
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I normally get my mum flowers. Feel a bit bad now 😉
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