Dearest Husband,

In case you haven’t noticed, Mother’s Day is coming up. (It’s Sunday, May 12th in case you’ve been living in a hole, and that better not give you license to make snide comments about my housekeeping habits.) Inevitably you will ask me what I want. *Groan* Really? Can’t you be just a little bit creative? Fine. While anything in a little blue box wrapped up with a white bow is always appreciated, it’s not necessarily things that I want — It’s more experiences that will bring me joy.

Now wait a hot minute! Before you crank out some lame coupon book from the inmates with free hugs and doing the dishes and other malarkey and call it a day, listen to me. Granted, I’m all about hugs and getting out of doing the dishes, but why do I have to go dig out a coupon book any time I would like these things done? And most likely when I do actually find said coupon book, I’m going to end up getting attitude or eye-rolling and that just sucks the fun out of it all.

Instead, my love, I give you what Nurse Ratched does NOT want for Mother’s Day:

1. Breakfast in bed: Hell to the no. I know it seems all decadent and fancy, but NO. Here’s what will happen: fighting, spills, crumbs and an enormous mess in the kitchen for me to clean up. All things I loathe. You know as well as I do, the inmates will fight over who gets to push the toaster button and burn my toast, what kind of jam I want, who gets to pour the OJ and bring up the tray. I will hear all of this fighting nonsense from my cozy bed, and it will cancel out any “sleeping in” or “relaxing” it was supposed to provide. And then they will inevitably drip coffee or juice all the way up the stairs and down the hall. Then when they deliver the tray, still fighting, they will set it down and proceed to jump on the bed, spilling everything all over. Then they will eat the breakfast for me and make crumbs. Oh goody. Now I get to change the sheets and wash all of the bedding. And how about they just don’t touch my food period — I’ve seen how those animals “wash” their hands. Gross. I’m not going to even go into the epic mess they will have left in the kitchen for me.
   Instead, how about this, Dear Husband: Wake up a bit early (and not after hitting snooze 4 times, because that’s gonna get you throat punched by yours truly.) Quietly go downstairs and make coffee. While it’s brewing, quietly wake up the inmates and hustle them out to the car, then bring a piping hot carafe of coffee and set it quietly on my bedside table whilst I slumber. Then take the inmates out for breakfast. Please be gone for at least three hours. Take them to the park, the zoo, the movies…ANYTHING! I just want a few hours in the house to myself with nothing that needs to get done, except for me to sleep, drink coffee, mess around on my phone and take a long, uninterrupted shower. And if the inmates were a bunch of jerks the whole time you were gone, I don’t want to hear about it. Plaster a fake smile on your face and pretend it was more fun than should be allowed by law. Don’t harsh my mellow with tales of hateful behavior.
2. Gift Certificate for a spa getaway: Now don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the idea of a spa getaway. But by giving me a gift certificate, you’ve basically just created more work for me, and the less likely it’s gonna happen. I’m the one who will have to schedule it, make reservations, find a sitter and make decisions on where to go and what to do. You know. Do the all the stuff I do every day for everyone?? By the time it gets around to actually going to the spa, half the joy has been canceled out by having to arrange it all.
   Instead, my intelligent and resourceful Husband, do a little research and do the planning for me! You have access to my calendar (which has everyone’s whereabouts every single minute of the day) and to my contacts with all the best babysitters if needed. Set it up. Block off my calendar, book the spa services (massage, facial and mani/pedi please) and just tell me where I need to be when. I’m getting goose bumps just thinking about the whole idea!
3. Mother’s Day brunch: Nope. Hard pass. I know you’re thinking, “But that way you won’t have to cook and you can have a nice meal!” True, but the thought of going to a crowded nice restaurant with the surly inmates in tow is giving me hives just thinking about it. You know First Born will be devouring every dessert in sight while picking on Young Son who will be grumpy if there is not a sufficient flow of breakfast meats. Warrior Princess will most likely be the best behaved of the group, but she can be a wild card. Keep this whole idea for when they are grown up and no longer living with us. It will be far more pleasant for all involved.
   Instead, pick up some nice carry out and bring it home. Serve it on paper plates, I don’t care. Just so long as I don’t have to clean it up! You chose the place and what to order and take care of the details. Having one day a year without having to plan what goes into everyone’s stomach and then clean up afterward is a dream come true.

For bonus points, if I can get through the day without having to touch any bodily fluid — pee, poop, puke, blood, sweat, tears — I will be a happy girl. Better yet, if they are involved, clean it up, shove the inmates in the tub and toss in a load of laundry while you’re at it.

I know all of this sounds very demanding and selfish, and I guess it is. But if you truly want to give me a wonderful Mother’s Day, give me a day off of being a mother. The best gift I’ve ever received has been the family we’ve created together. I’d just like one day off from it. Most importantly, just acknowledge that you all appreciate what I do and how much I love you all. That’s the best present of all.