I don't really love Mother's Day. Every Mother's Day I've ever celebrated has been kind of a disappointment. (Side Note: Jay's Father's Days are shit also. Sorry Jay. I just never know how to make them special.) I always build it up in my head to be this day of relaxation where everyone does everything for me and it never works out that way. I end up washing dishes, the laundry still needs to be cleaned and folded, and inevitably I have to referee a sibling fight. This Mother's Day was no different. It's fine really, I was expecting it so it was ok. But you know what I really want for Mother's Day? To stop being a mother. Not long term of course, but for that one 24 hour period. Or maybe even just those 12-18 awake hours. I'd use that time to sleep, eat alone, drink wine at one in the afternoon, listen to my favorite songs uninterrupted, read chapter upon chapter of whatever book I'm into, watch a TV show with a lot of curse words, you get the idea.
My day really did get better though. Jay made the kids get their shit together and we went and ate french fries in the park. There was extra ketchup and no fighting, which is all I need. Afterwards I made brownies with Lucy and just chilled out. Work called, wanting to know if I'd be interested in coming in. I wasn't.
Later in the evening Jay and I went to Powell's to see Marc Maron. I've loved him since high school and was super excited to see him in person. We were in the second row. Close enough to see all the good details (jewelry, footwear, the variations in beard color, etc) but not so close that I'm forced to make constant eye contact with minor celebrity. (By the way: Maron's book is raw, funny, and real. Get it.)
I didn't wait around to get my book signed. I did not-so-covertly take a picture though.
As far as Mother's Day goes, next year I'm setting my expectations low. If it ends up being fabulous, yay. If not, it's just another day that I didn't die a violent death. Also, yay.