According to the recent slew of online ads in my timeline laying claim to maternal celebration via everything from online groceries to waterproof shoes, Mother’s Day is looming. Not gonna lie, I can definitely get on board with the whole “show mom how much you love her” sentiment. But, as Amy Schumer so brilliantly captured in this SNL clip, mostly it’s a day of high expectations that are left unmet by poor execution, spousal anxiety, and additional emotional labour.
Forget waking me up with half-wilted flowers, reluctantly scribbled cards, lukewarm coffee, and brittle toast. If you really want to make my day, here’s a list of things that I would gladly accept instead:
- Don’t ask me for a single thing all day. Not a damn thing. Don’t even wait for me to say “Ask Daddy,” which will only make me feel guilty. Just—pretend I’m in a coma or something.
- Speaking of comas: Let me sleep in, then let me have a nap, then let me go to bed early. Let me be in a virtual coma for most of the day. Oh, and definitely don’t ask me why I’m so tired. I’m a mom. Moms are tired people.
- Relieve me of the need to plan or make decisions around meals, screen time, dog walking, bedtime, etc. There is far too much real estate in my brain taken up by monitoring how long it’s been since the kids ate, what they’re going to eat, how long they’ve been on screens, whether the dog has been fed and if he’s about to shit on the floor, who needs a bath, when the sheets were last washed, who has clean underwear, do we need any school snacks, if teeth are brushed… and on and on. My brain is like the mental equivalent of a hoarder’s den.
- Please don’t talk to me if I’m doing something that requires my focus. I want to read my books, surf the internet, watch Netflix, and not be interrupted in any way. Despite all outward appearances, I am not that into Star Wars, I don’t give a shit about Minecraft, and I definitely don’t want to engage in any discussions about what makes a good Among Us imposter. Especially if I’m reading the latest hot goss about Prince Harry and Meghan Markle….
- Do some chores without telling me you’re doing some chores. Unload the dishwasher, do a load of laundry (including folding and putting clothes away), mop the floor, vacuum, wipe the kitchen counters—AND THEN DON’T SAY A FRIGGIN’ WORD ABOUT IT. I’m not the only one who lives here. No one notices every time I put the dishes away, let alone gives me praise when I do. And guess what? I HATE DOING IT. But I do it, and it sucks. Every. Single. Time.
- Let me drink as much rosé as I want to, and then let me fall asleep on the couch, and then just cover me with a blanket and leave me alone.
- Don’t jump or climb on me. Not on my back, not on my lap when I’m trying to knit my Diana black sheep sweater, not on my body when I’m lying on the couch after drinking the aforementioned rosé. No one should have to live in fear of being tackled unawares by boy bodies every 10 minutes.
- Lastly, let me kiss and hug you as much as I want to because I love you like crazy and you’re growing up way too fast even though you still smell like my little babies. I’m the only mom you’ve got, so let’s make the most of it.
BATSHIT PARENTING 