“Mommy, can we go to Chuck E. Cheese’s for Mother’s Day?” said my 7-year-old from the merry-go-round.
“Aw. That’s very thoughtful.” I said.
“Spin me faster!”
It was hard to spin him with one hand and text my husband, if u take me to Chuck E. Cheese on Mother’s Day I’ll throw myself into oncoming traffic with the other, but I made it work.
It’s no secret that I’m never going to win mother of the year, so I’m going to go ahead and say this:
(((((((((((I HATE MOTHER’S DAY!)))))))))))
This so-called “holiday” is a crock of shit wrapped in torn tissue paper and stuffed in a hand-me-down gift bag.
For starters, let’s look at the word holiday. Webster’s defines it as “A day of festivity or recreation when no work is done,” which is fucking hilarious, because anyone who is an actual mother will tell you that Mother’s Day is one of the most labor intensive days of the year.

A typical “celebration” consists of brunch at some overpriced flu factory, where a group of overly hungry family members sit around a crowded table, pretending to be interested in the minutiae of each other’s lives, all the while daydreaming of the time when we can get home, peel off our spanks, and fart where no one can hear it. Plus, I never comprehend half of what anyone is saying because I’m busy trying to get my kid to stop crawling under the table and stepping on my hardly worn pumps (which I got on sale, thankyouverymuch) using my inside voice, not my usual “God, I hope I closed the windows so the neighbors can’t hear me” screech.

Then there are the gifts, which are made in school assigned by teachers who hate us mothers for all the pesky emails, unwashed children, and lack of gratitude. Last year, I got a heart-shaped keychain made of clay that came pre-broken, which I found three weeks after the holiday at the bottom of my child’s backpack. The year before that I got a milk carton full of dirt, which (allegedly) had a sunflower seed in it, because all moms need another thing to feed and water.
And please, partners, spouses, husbands, baby daddies, accidental sperm donors, and step whatevers of the world, do not take this as a sign to go bigger and throw us a party instead of going out to “celebrate.”
Parties are not fun for mothers.
A party is just another reason for us moms to feel like shit about ourselves. You see, a party means we have to, have to, clean the house, because people are coming over, meaning you’ll find us on our hands and knees scrubbing the bathtub with a toothbrush and some bleach on the off chance that some asshole pulls back the shower curtain to find a bead of mold and a gang of stray pubic hairs staging a Broadway musical in the corner.
Parties also mean we have to plan food, make food, clean up food, and soon wish everyone would get the hell out of our house because we stress-ate 11 deviled eggs and only have one (very clean) bathroom.
No other holiday makes the namesake do any actual work. Jesus totally ghosted everyone on Easter, fat Santa is done with his work and sipping on peppermint schnapps with his hand down his pants by Christmas Day, and don’t even get me started on Columbus!
I’m going to tell you what all of us mothers REALLY want for Mother’s Day, so lean in:
We want to be left ALONE!
Queremos estar SOLOS!
我们想一个人呆着 !
It’s true of every woman in every culture that the best gift you can give us is to skip the handmade trifles, leave the jewelry in the store, ditch the flowers and the restaurants, and give us an entire day to sit in a hot bath with good wifi so we can binge-watch Orange Is the New Black, eat Oreos by the sleeve without having to answer one question, make any food, or hold back any gas.
So, yeah kid, you can go to Chuck E. Cheese’s this year on Mother’s Day, but I’m not coming with you. I’ll be celebrating with a bathroom full of lesbian prisoners and a self-fueled jacuzzi full of crumbs.
If you like to write or read GREAT STUFF, please join me over at yeahwrite.me for this week’s competition!
Kind of a different title for what the article is actually about
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You are aware that there’s free porn on the internet, right? I mean, if you want real lesbians and oreos, instead of clever writing, you could just google it.
And while you’re here, let me give you a tip on how to comment on a blog: Don’t. Just don’t. Unless you have something supportive or nice to say, get on your huffy bike and ride into the sunset.
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Haha! Nice!
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Fantastic response.
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Thanks.
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You are amazing!!!!
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AWESOME!! I love it!! I’m not there with you as this is the first mother’s day my son actually understands the intentions behind it, but I’m there with you and the LEAVE ME ALONE and let me watch the paint dry with a bottle of wine with you. 😀
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A powerhouse of ‘You got that right’. Someone needed Mommy reassurance and created the – Ugh: Special Day. For G-d’s sake – no offense Gd, we have a special day for way too many things. Can the kids just behave, go to bed and be nice everyday? Please ….
Good job expressing what many may feel but hesitate to voice. 👍
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Someone had to say it! I’m just glad you were listening.
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Amen …. ❤
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Brilliant! My kids are adults and Mother’s Day still isn’t any fun. Just leave my favorite Vietnamese food on the front step around dinner time and text me when you get back in your car.
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Yum Vietnamese food. Yes. Double yes!
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Literally had me giggling out loud!
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Excellent. I love it when a plan comes together.
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Mother’s Day in a nutshell.
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Right, Vanessa! It should be replaced with “Mommy needs a break day” immediately. I’ll write the president. You write the congresspeople, k?
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Hahaha I love the title and how it works with the essay. I’m not a mom but I always wondered why Mother’s day still required so much effort of the mom. Well done for expressing so well what so many others probably think every year. Hehe
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Thanks. Making titles is like my favorite thing in the whole world. Is there a blog where you can just write titles and no essays, because that would be epic (and a lot less time consuming). I think I’d call the blog …. Shit! I can’t think of a clever title.
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Titular Escape hahaha you are certainly different from me. I hate titling. It takes way too much effort for me. Lol
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Titular escape! NICE!
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I could hug you (in a VERRRRRRY platonic way). The one time my kid threw me a mother’s day party, I spent post breakfast hours cleaning splattered eggs yolks out of the insides of the microwave. It has since then been a standing instruction that I don’t want to hear the word “mother’s day” ever again in this house.
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Egg yolks in the microwave?! Come on kids! I’ll take that verrrrrry platonic hug.
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This post made me chuckle (no E. Cheese with that, please)! Particularly, the way you managed to put the truth in here and still not make it sound too serious; my suspicion, as I’m no expert, is that this is due to your ability to put together excellent prose! Just a suspicion, so I will continue to follow your blog to look for more evidence!!
Thanks,
Frank
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Thanks Frank! I always like to see new faces around here! 🙂 Prose is a strong word for what I do, but I’ll take it.
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What an eye-opener! You’re actually saying for us guys to do NOTHING for you mothers?? Message received! Lol. As usual…awesome writing! I actually wish it was longer hahaha!
-Joel
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Ask any spouse or partner, taking the kids always so Mom can be alone is the opposite of nothing. Lol! Thanks for reading.
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I enjoy your honesty and writing style immensely!
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Thanks. I just hope my mom never finds it. Lol.
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Would it make you jealous to know that my kids are camping with their father and his fiancee this Mother’s Day?
But I won’t be alone — my mother volunteered me to help her serve brunch to 100 of her closest AmVets friends…
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Serving brunch vs. being with the kids. Well, I’m not really sure which one of those is worse. Well, have a Happy Mother’s Day either way. I guess?
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I loved everything about this!!! You have such an incredible talent for putting ideas together- love that you told the kid on the bike where to ride in the comments section!!! Just stellar!!
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Thanks Mama! 🙂
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This is hilarious. Thank you for sharing. On a side note, can you believe I spent one Mother’s Day at Hooters having wings? Yep.
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Omfg. That… I can’t even.
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SOOOOO amazingly funny, well thought-out, and beautifully written….(this should be my post, waaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh). Hope that describes how much I love this. And the title, those two words…together…in a title…truly stunning.
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Best. Comment. Ever. I can so identify with the part where you say “This should be my post…” I do that ALL THE TIME when I read something that really resonates with me. A. This person is inside my head, and B. I should totally have written that!
Anyway, you win the comment thread. I wish I had a prize for ya.
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You so ROCK Lisa! Your reply to comment number one, your posts, your prompt and thoughtful answers to comments. I also read your About Me page; loved how you said you’d answer questions. You are so mentoring without probably really trying – my new favorite rockstar…I’m your groupie 🤓
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Shit! I’ve never had a groupie. I don’t think I can take that kind of pressure!
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I LOL’d at the cleaning paragraph! If you ever write a book about motherhood I will read the hell out of it!
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That cleaning paragraph is MY FUCKING LIFE. It could not be anymore true. AND I wrote it knowing my husband would read this post and think “Hm, maybe I’ll throw her a party instead.” DUH HUSBAND! How can he not get me? It’s been like a thousand years. Okay 17, but still!
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I’m going to put a gun to my husband’s forehead and make him read this. JK (not!) Fantastic post!
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Haha. Thanks!
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