I have mixed feelings about Mother’s Day. On the one hand, if there’s going to be a day to celebrate ME, then I’d like to spend it in bed with some cookie dough and some coffee and maybe a let’s-watch-LOST-from-the-beginning marathon. I wouldn’t shower, or get dressed, or put on make-up. I’d actually get to READ something that isn’t in 4-page on-the-toilet installments. But, on the other hand, it’s a day to celebrate ME BEING A MOTHER, which presents an entirely different scenario. It involves getting out of bed and spending the day with the three little people (that is people who are small, not the fisher price kind) who made me a MOTHER. people who think their mom rocks because “she is sweet to me” and people who refuse to be in the photo on principle (stubborn Isabella. GRR)
people who think I rock because I take them to places like The Bunch Family Dance Party and embarrass them by knowing all the words to Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing dance with them
and pay overpriced prices for them to eat boxed macaroni and cheese at Rainforest Cafe and take them to the park and help them dig for worms and test out Emily’s High School Musical scooter (which, ps, SUPER FUN) and convince them that they are, in fact, REAL superheroes
and let their auntie sharon be an ENABLER and send them home from her annual mother’s day brunch (um, yum, can you say ali eats 1,000 calories in french toast suffle?! see? enabler) with hidden bags of candy
(but superMommy spies something GREEN)
but, with the yin of having a little mommy-and-her-bunnies time comes the yang of mommy having a little mommy time. (in the words of Justin Timberlake…every mother’s day needs a mother’s night…)
so, I certainly didn’t complain when the husband took the kids out for breakfast and to swimming (which involved several chocolate-milk-induced outfit changes and several trips to the bathroom including an emergency poo) and let me sleep in until 10:30.
and I certainly didn’t complain when I was presented with tickets to see my boyfriend, Dane Cook and his Isolated Incident Comedy Tour.
oh, the dirty, dirty things I want to do
and like I told my friends on twitter (I use the term “friends” loosely…because, um, if you tweet something and no one responds to it, did you even tweet it at all? hmm..deep thoughts, by alimartell)…I am super glad I ate my cinnabon delicious goodness BEFORE dude started talking about Britney Spears’ vag looking like a stroke victim’s face or like it has bell’s palsy. MY GOD, it was face-hurting funny. and don’t get me started on the WWHDD (what would Hilary Duff do?) (alternate: what would HAILEY Duff do?) or the peanut butter smack.
I will save you all from my LOOOOVE for Dane because i know that Sam and Karen are jealous and I know that Slynnro and Avitable are off somewhere losing their breakfasts….so I will go back to talking about the cinnabon. mmm…cinnabon.
DEFINITELY, a top 3 dessert for me. the other two? Pumpkin Pie and fresh out-of-the-oven supersoft chocolate chip cookies. What’s your top 3?