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In regards to future Mother’s Days

Dear Husband:

You’re terrific and you’re doing a great job as a parent to our kids.

In related news: this sentiment is all I want for Mother’s Day in the future.

Doesn’t have to be included with flowers or a gift. Just a note would suffice, saying: “Hey Lady, you are awesome and rockin’ this motherhood thang.”

OR Put your own spin on it. Whatever strikes your fancy.

But whatever you do, PLEASE don’t make me go out to a meal, with our young kids, on Mother’s Day, as that is the fucking worst.

I dine with our children every OTHER day of the year. Sure, they’re usually meals at home, but for the most part our kids’ behaviors don’t get BETTER at a meal off the premises.

Tonight, dear husband, you took us all out to a mother’s day dinner at a fancy restaurant. SO nice of you. I mean it when I say that I appreciate the gesture and your generosity.

But never the fuck again.

Dinner out with our very young kids, as you know, is not fun. They’re ticking time bombs. I try to fend off their inevitable tantrums with my bag of tricks (their favorite snacks, sticker books, trips to the bathroom, chocolate milk) just so that you and I can get through the salad course without a soundtrack of screaming. But it never quite works, or if it does, we are on tenterhooks the whole time and can’t enjoy our meals. And it involves herculean efforts on my part – not just packing the bag of tricks, but also dressing them for said-dinner, and before that, bathing them.

It’s not like another meal of the day is better for going out on Mother’s Day. Brunch is the worst. Unless you’re a millennial and/or hipster with zero children, brunch can go to hell. It’s not a real meal, and my toddlers will certainly be hungry again at actual lunchtime.

What I WOULD like – nay, LOVE – for mother’s day, besides the aforementioned note above, is a few hours to myself. How I spend those hours will be up to me, though, spoiler-alert, I will likely spend them alone in a dark room, either sleeping or just relishing some peace and quiet, and feeling grateful for the fact that I am NOT policing our (precious but understandably age-appropriately rambunctious) toddlers at some God-forsaken bullshit brunch.

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