This past Sunday was Mother’s Day, the holiday to honor thy mother/spouse/sister/daughter. And while my Mother’s Day was nice, I’ve come to the conclusion that this holiday is not all it’s cracked up to be.
Let me explain. Mother’s Day brings with it the expectation that us mothers will have a blissfully pleasant day. There may be cards, flowers, breakfast in bed (or at least a custom Starbucks); maybe a gift, some quiet time, and pampering would be nice.
However deep down, us mothers know this blissful day will never happen because … WE’RE MOTHERS! The one thing we’ve learned as mothers is a single perfect blissful day doesn’t exist. Sophie’s needs won’t miraculously disappear because of the date on the calendar.
And then what happens? We end up feeling let down. Not because our husbands or children failed us; but because there is no way to meet such unreasonable expectations.
I’m not complaining that my Mother’s Day was doom-and-gloom. I enjoyed a morning Starbucks, compliments of Bryan and Sophie who also gave me a very blissful 20 minutes to myself (reading the remaining pages of Ashley Judd’s biography). I was able to take an afternoon nap and even purchased two books I was eying.
And while I did not have pedicures or an expensive dinner, I was able to enjoy the company of Bryan and my daughter at the dinner table, where I was treated to to the best gift ever: Sophie turning to me saying, “Mommy, I forgot to tell you: Happy Mother’s Day.”
Here are a few photos of the Mother’s Day treats I made for my mom and sisters. Pound cake topped with homemade raspberry sauce, whipped cream and fresh raspberries, and a shortbread cookie on the side (a la Costco).