Keeping it real

Last month I learned something about myself. Mother’s Day was approaching and I had some pretty specific ideas about what I would have liked to happen. I wanted breakfast in bed and my inner princess wanted to be pampered all day long. I wanted my kids to be loving, respectful, unselfish, and to use their indoor voices. I wanted my husband to buy me something – ANYTHING, even something incredibly inexpensive - that he lovingly and thoughtfully picked out. I also wanted to spend time with my good friend at the Oklahoma Fiber Rendezvous.

And then reality laughed and smacked me upside the head.

I got strep a couple of days before Mother’s Day. Then my husband informed me that he had to work. The entire weekend. While I was miserable with strep. And the strep sort of made the Fiber Rendezvous a non-issue. Then my kids decided to act like little hooligans and before long I found myself yelling. And then feeling guilty for yelling on Mother’s Day. I didn’t get a card or present from my husband, but I did receive little hand-made cards (the best kind) from my kids courtesy of daycare and school. Then my husband came home and informed me that we were all going out to dinner. I perked up until he said that his parents were going too (thereby killing two birds with one stone). And we were going to a buffet that serves crappy food.

Totally not the Mother’s Day I envisioned.

But I don’t blame my husband. In this economy, a paycheck trumps my inner princess any day. Yes, he could have been thoughtful enough to plan ahead and buy me a card, but that’s just not like him.

I don’t blame my kids. They were just acting like kids. They don’t stop being kids because I’m sick or because it’s Mother’s Day.

I blame myself. I completely set myself up for failure with the ridiculous expectations that I had. And I do this every freaking year. So this year after I had a good self-pity cry, I had an epiphany. I am the solely responsible for my own happiness. If I want something for Mother’s Day, I need to make it happen. My family is not going to do it. I need to lower my expectations and keep it real. As soon as I had my little a-ha, I got online and ordered my own Mother’s Day present and told my husband he was in charge of getting the kids bathed and put to bed. But aside from the whole strep thing going on and my husband having to work, I managed to take responsibility for my own happiness, change my attitude, and somewhat turns things around. But I bet I do the same damn thing next year.

My gift to myself arrived a few days later. It’s a necklace with two miniature charms that look like dog tags. Each one has my child’s name and birth date engraved on it, and their coordinating birth stones are embedded on the little tags. I love it. When I showed it to my son, he said, “That’s really pretty, mom. You should take that to work and show it to the people there. And you know what they’re going to say?” I looked at him hesitantly and asked, “What?” He said, “She probably went to Jared!”

(I didn’t, but let that be a lesson to those who don’t believe in the power of television marketing. Also, perhaps my son watches a little too much TV.)

Keep it real, people.