Momservation: Forget Mother’s Day - you’re never more appreciated as a mom than when everyone runs out of clean underwear. 

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▲The fantasy and ▼reality of Mother’s Day

So the family came out of the gates strong on Mother’s Day.

If you exclude the fact that I was supposed to get a reprieve from waking up at O-God-thirty with the puppy and denied my request of wanting to just be left alone.

“Don’t you want to be with your family on Mother’s Day? Without them you wouldn’t be a mother,” Hubby had rationalized. He was just scared of working without a net.

I did get the Sunday paper and breakfast in bed – always a treat.

After I read through the old papers waiting for someone to get up and get it for me and orchestrating another meal because nobody knew what to make.

I did get some beautiful homemade cards and a sweet gift bracelet.

After pretending to ignore the flurry of last minute card making and not getting what I really wanted – my potted plants put in the ground before they continued to die waiting for me to find free time. They’re dead now.

But the good news is Hubby got his lawns mowed like he wanted before it rained! Unfortunately, our plan of going to the river as a family afterward was washed out.

And it continued to go down hill from there.

Hubby kept pestering me about what I wanted for dinner before I finally said, “What I want for dinner is to not have to think about what’s for dinner.”

Then, during my self-imposed exile in bed since I wasn’t allowed to ditch my family Hubby comes in and asks incredulously, “Aren’t you bored?”

“Not at all,” I said sipping my hot chocolate, reading my paper and enjoying not being needed. “Shut the door behind you please.”

Finally, the kids started fighting. Hubby obviously was about to snap from the strain of one day of being obligated to pamper me. So I decided to remove myself from the situation and do what I really wanted to do.

I went to the movies by myself.

Before I left, when the kids saw me finally emerge from my zone of tranquility, they zipped over to me unable to resist the pull of needing Mommy to do something.

“Can we make cookies?”

“Sure,” I said. “Daddy will help you.” And then I left.

The movie was great. The popcorn was delicious. The soda and candy a guilty pleasure. The solitude among strangers was absolute bliss.

There was even a part in the movie, Date Night, where the wife character tries to explain to her skeptical husband that her true fantasy didn’t involve sex, but simply escaping to a hotel where she could be left alone and maybe enjoy a Sprite.

“Exactly!” I shouted at the screen.

When I came home dinner was ready, I didn’t have to argue with anyone to set the table and I didn’t have to fight with anyone to help clean up. I simply got to enjoy the pleasure of my family’s company and a meal I didn’t have to plan, cook or clean up after.

And the homemade, a bit too salty, chocolate chip cookies for dessert was a strong finish to a valiant try at hosting the perfect Mother’s Day.