The Myth of Mother's Day

Long before we were married, Des forgot Valentine’s Day. I don’t know how he missed the hearts in the store windows, the repetitive diamond commercials or the red roses that beckoned on every Manhattan street corner but somehow, he did. When he arrived home to find me in a disgruntled and disappointed snit, he gave me a big hug and kiss and said “I’m so sorry but, with you, every day is Valentine’s Day.” Cheesy, right? But here’s the thing, I fell for it. Because it’s kinda true. Since then, we haven’t gone out on Valentine’s Day – which is not to say that we don’t celebrate it -- we most certainly do, but on our own terms. Rather than battle overcrowded restaurants with overpriced meals, we now put the kids to bed and enjoy a nice meal and bottle of wine at home. I daresay that Valentine’s Day 2008 just might be the cause of our identical triplets… which leads me to Mother’s Day.
I’m not sure why, but I consistently seem to fall for the Mother’s Day hype. I fell especially hard last year when we had five kids under five. People would stop me on the street to tell me how great my Mother’s Day was going to be. “This is your year” they said. “This Mother’s Day will be all about you.” “Don’t you dare lift a finger Dear, this is the one day a year that you get to relax.” I’m somewhat ashamed to admit that I fell victim to this flawed thinking on multiple fronts.

The reality is that last year was not “my” year and it was definitely not all about me. While I would have relished the opportunity to stay in bed until noon and not lift a finger as I’d been advised, I found that by 9AM, I had changed about ten diapers, done two loads of laundry, been spit up on three times and not yet had a cup of coffee. So much for the one day a year I was supposed to relax! I’d fallen hard for the Myth of Mother’s Day and as a result, I spent the day much like that Valentine’s Day long ago – disgruntled and disappointed – with an alarming dose of post-partum tears tossed in for good measure! I sadly succeeded in making that Mother’s Day miserable for myself but, much like that day when Cupid was a no-show, I learned a lot from what we now refer to as “The Mother’s Day Meltdown.”

1. Every day IS Mother’s Day. You can’t turn off your kids or roll over and make them go away. Trust me, I’ve tried. So, on Mother’s Day, it’s best to recall what I think the point actually may be – which isn’t to escape from your kids and responsibilities but to embrace them. To give thanks for the small things we take for granted like ten fingers and ten toes or sloppy wet kisses or someone who wants nothing more than an “Uppie”. And, if someone else does the dishes for you, well, that’s ok too.

2. Moms deserve more than one day a year to relax! And, it’s up to us to make the time to do so. While I dream of long bubble baths with candlelight and a cup of tea, it’s just not happening. Were I to get into the tub, I’m sure I’d be joined by some small tot… or worse, one large dog. So, I’ve found other ways to get in a bit of R&R on a regular basis… a book club and occasional girls night out do the trick for me and give me something to look forward to once or twice a month, rather than some supposed day off that only comes once a year.

3. This day, like most days, really isn’t all about me. What about my Mom? What an interesting dilemma this holiday presents when you become a mom yourself yet still have your own Mom to consider. On this day, like most days, I find it best to defer to Mom’s wishes. This is how I found myself on a Yankee Stadium tour with a two year old and a newborn a few years ago… it wouldn’t have been my top choice but, if you can’t indulge your own Mom on Mother’s Day, well, what’s the point?!

My Mom and I don’t always see eye to eye but I’m so grateful to her for so many things… especially for the ability to see the silver lining in almost any cloud. I guess you could say that thanks to my Mom, I truly believe that every day is Valentine’s Day and I’m proud to have reached the point in life where every day is Mother’s Day.

(This post originally appeared on http://www.parentask.com/ )

T-Ball Season Begins

T-Ball Season. It has officially begun. It started on Friday night at 6:15 when I found myself in the middle of a field rather than on the couch enjoying our weekly "pizza and movie night."  I'm not sure if Des or Liam was more excited about our family's offical entry into organized sports but I can assure you, it wasn't me! I admit it's selfish, but I've been doing my best to avoid our town's sporting agenda for at least two years now. And, as a reminder, Liam is only five!  They really start 'em young around here -- as they do just about everywhere else, I'm told.  But, I have a hard time giving up our dinner time and our family time in the name of soccer, basketball or baseball.  I know it's bound to happen eventually, I just wish it didn't have to happen so soon.

To me, this foray into bat and ball represents something far more significant.  It is a sign that my little man, my first born, is growing up.  He's going to be part of a team and though his t-ball team just happens to be the Cubs, it's not the Lyons Den Cubs.  When Liam is on my team, there's a decent chance he won't get hit in the head with a ball or teased for swinging and missing.  Although, should either event occur, I'd be quick to get the 'boo boo baseball' or discipline the person responsible for the taunting.  Out on the big field though, all I can do watch.  In theory, anyway.  The reality is that on Friday night, I didn't get to watch much.  Since Des is one of the assistant coaches, I found myself running a few bases of my own as I chased Kevin, Declan and Cormac while occasionally pausing long enough to ensure that Ciara hadn't wandered off. I recall glancing up once to see Liam with a batting helmet on and another time I saw him rounding first out of the corner of my eye.  In all though, I didn't catch much of what was going on and that, I suppose, just confirmed one of my fears.  This is it Mom -- welcome to the outfield. 

I didn't play organized sports as a kid.  My mom wasn't a "soccer mom."  I took ballet until I got to college and then running became my physical outlet.  Admittedly, neither is a team sport.  So, I really don't have a good understanding (or appreciation for) most sports. I like the Superbowl because of the commercials and an annual excuse to eat a lot of junk food. I kind of get basketball because I went to Villanova, very much a basketball-focused school.  I've grown to at least understand baseball thanks to the fact that Des is a fanatical Yankee fan.  Soccer still totally escapes me.  As T-Ball season kicks off, so too begins a whole new phase in our lives... rallying our "Cubs" to root for Liam's Cubs and doing my best to understand and appreciate the many team sports that are bound to fill our days (and nights!) for years to come.