Yesterday was Mother’s Day and like many of you, I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s saying “Can I get a re-do?”
Is it just me, or is Mother’s Day almost ALWAYS an absolute shitshow? I swear my children are like aggressive dogs - they can smell the fear on me. They sense that they’re supposed to be extra well-behaved and instead of rising to the challenge, they throw all caution to the wind, scream out “To Hell with it!” and proceed to emulate Max from Where the Wild Things Are for the remainder of the day.
Now, don’t get me wrong, as the years have passed, they’ve become slightly better behaved. But there’s still whining, cause I mean, would it even BE a day without some whining? They’ve become more thoughtful in their gifts; last year was a Wish Box full of pieces of paper I could write all my hopes and dreams down on and they promised to fulfill them, this year a bag of chocolate (Avery for the win). And as an added bonus, they even managed to refrain from busting my door down with excitement at 6:00 a.m. and let me sleep until almost eight (a Mother’s Day Miracle, for sure)!
But between an hour and a half of flag football practice in hurricane-like conditions and 50 degree weather and entertaining my parents and sister for lunch after, there wasn’t a whole lot of relaxation going on. Nope, that’s an exaggeration. ZERO relaxation.
So, I refer to my previous statement. I want my day, damn it. Actually, I think I deserve quite a few days. I’d like to pull a The Day The Crayons Quit and submit this as my formal, but temporary, request for a leave of absence from motherhood. So, here goes:
My Dearest Children,
Let me start by saying I love you more than precious life itself and my proudest moments all trace back to being your mother. I'd give my last breath for you and would follow you to the moon and back.
Now, please note, despite my enormous love for and admiration of both of you, it pains me to inform you that I must take a temporary hiatus from my role as Mom/Mother/Mama/Ma/Mommy/Bruh/Dude. You see, the job description provided to me upon acceptance of this position no longer aligns with the actual duties I am responsible for or expected to carry out on a daily, nay, hourly basis.
For example, at no time was it disclosed to me that I would be expected to wipe dried boogers off of the walls of our home, catch vomit in my bare hands, or scrub dried pee off of the bathroom floors. Quite frankly, this is disgusting and vomit-inducing. Despite numerous redirections, coaching sessions, and private goal-setting meetings, these issues have not been addressed.
Nor was I informed that I would be responsible for sacrificing my body as a human crash dummy, subject to pig piles, bony elbows to the uterus disguised as “cuddle sessions,” blisters on the backs of my heels from being run over by the shopping carriage, or bruises up and down my shins from abuse sustained during a roller coaster ride.
Additionally, I believe I was intentionally misled regarding the working hours of this position. It has been 11 years, 132 months, 4,015 days, or 96,360 hours since I have had a vacation. Despite submitting numerous requests for time off and even going so far as to make arrangements for coverage of my shifts, said vacation time was denied or sabotaged, rendering me unable to escape, er, leave.
Shifts typically range anywhere from 4-6 days straight, for 24-hours at a time. And at any given moment, I am expected to fulfill all of the following duties:
shop for and prepare all meals and snacks
sort, clean, and put away all laundry
chauffeur employees to various practices, rehearsals, play dates, and outings
conduct all grocery shopping and errands
provide tutoring services
navigate complex and dynamic social situations
utilize various conflict resolution strategies
clean/scrub/vacuum/maintain a household
strategically schedule and communicate an event calendar, inclusive of all wellness visit appointments
tend to all medical emergencies
provide private coaching sessions in any number of extra curricular activities
deliver detailed analytics on any number of subjects including weather, fashion, Pokémon statistics, Netflix/Disney+ plot lines and character analyses, Marvel Universe character trees, or the entire music industry
constantly adapt my vocabulary to reflect the ever-changing evolution of your language usage (inclusive of all slang and dialectical terms)
For all of these reasons and more, it regrets me to inform you I must go. I simply cannot sustain the workload I am expected to carry. Therefore, please forward my final paycheck to my private cabana at the Sandals Resort on the Island of Turks & Caicos (is what I would say if this was a paid position. But alas, it is not.).
I will entertain offers to retain my employment here. But please be advised, bribes are highly encouraged, a pay raise is non-negotiable, vacation is mandatory, and the working conditions simply MUST change.
I look forward to hearing your counter offer.
Respectfully (and with all my love),
Mom