It wasn’t so long ago that I was holding that perfect little baby in my arms, listening to her coo and waiting for that hint of a smile to make my day. It is all so wonderful, just looking down at their tiny face and getting a smell of baby when you touch your nose against the top of their little heads. And then they reach up with their little hands and grab a good chunk of your hair and yank it right out or pull that hoop earring, that you were dumb enough to wear, straight through your ear lobe. This is when it all begins, the dream of having a perfect child bitch slaps you so hard across the face that you have no choice but to pick yourself up and face the harsh reality; my children are not perfect, I am not perfect, I will screw up many times today and they will make damn sure I know it AND my mom is smiling somewhere right now because she knows it!
Ah, the celebration of motherhood, well that’s what this Sunday is all about. I have to be honest it pisses me off that we kill ourselves 364 days a year and we get to be appreciated for one day. And let’s be realistic it’s not a day, it’s more like 5 hours of appreciation. Five hours of being served scrambled eggs with shells in them and smiling as you swallow them down, hoping they are cooked well enough to not give you salmonella. Graciously accepting handmade gifts from school, never quite sure what it is supposed to be, “How did you know I wanted one of these?” I guess the art teacher is getting even with us for not getting her a better Christmas gift.
And there’s another thing that has got me pissed off, why is the week leading up to Mother’s Day designated as Teacher Appreciation Week. Not only do I have to do all the normal crap, now I am assigned special tasks everyday to ensure my kid’s teachers knows I appreciate them. Not just the teacher, the teacher assistant, the librarian, the PE, Art, Music and Computer teachers. I am also showing appreciation for the office staff, the bus drivers, the cafeteria workers, the janitors, the landscapers, the electricians and the mailman. I know the teachers aren’t asking for appreciation week, it’s some busy body with nothing better to do than think up ways to give us more work to do so she can have the recognition. Please come forward and show yourself, as I and some of my kick ass friends have some appreciation to show you.
Here’s a little recap of this week’s added burden of teacher appreciation week. Monday is wear your teacher’s favorite color to school. Should be easy, but as I dress my 5 year old in yellow she tells me that it is NOT her teacher’s favorite color. I disagree I got the email from the room mom telling me it is indeed yellow. This takes us into a meltdown where she goes away comes back naked (which is not her teacher’s favorite color) and tells me she isn’t going to school today. After another 45 minutes of “discussion” I tell her to wear whatever the hell she wants and she comes back out with the same yellow shirt on. Then we have bring your teacher’s favorite snack to school, I won’t bore you with the details but it went a lot like the day before. I can’t even remember what Wednesday was because we had the hamster death drama, but I do know yesterday I was at Bloom at 7:45AM buying flowers for the teachers and the assistants. So that leaves today where my 7 year old tells me 90 seconds before we have to leave that she needs to have cards for her teacher and assistant teacher today. I start to argue that we don’t have time and just shut my mouth and go find a couple of cards for her. Of course all I have is a sympathy card and a graduation card so I just cut off the inside and let her give the front with the pretty picture. I still have to get the 5 year old something before PM Kindergarten, so I have that to look forward to today.
It is a hard job and it is thankless, at least in the verbal ways. Yes we love our children more than life and get great joy from taking care of them and watching them grow. We understand thank you is really not in their vocabulary and that the only time they say thanks is when someone tells them too. We are taken for granted and we know it. It’s what being a mother is all about and our mother’s didn’t tell us that because they knew we had to learn it for ourselves. Now let me give a stern warning to any man about to make a comment, please go get a vagina, uterus and ovaries, get knocked up and give birth before you even consider opening your mouths.
Happy Mother’s Day to all of you mothers, hope it’s a mother of a day!