Yeah...I know. Mother's Day was a while ago but I have a baby for God's sake! I don't even know what time it is. Plus, shouldn't Mother's Day be every day? Well, if it's anything like my Mother's Day was, I'd want it to be every hour!
As much as mothers want to be pampered on Mother's Day, some of us just want to...well...some of us just want to get sh-t done. I'm sorry, but most women would tell you that they'd love to have a day to cross 50 things off their list. That's sexy to a mom. That makes a mom relaxed. My Mother's Day started off at 5:30am...as almost every one of my days does. And every day, I greet the morning the same way. I pry my crusty eyes open, stare at my husband and in unison, we mutter...F-CK. And then, a little louder...F-CK!
I get up and get the kid out of his crib and again, let's be honest, they make them cute for a reason. At 5:30am I'm grinning like a moron, chirping and squeaking and coo-ing over a poopie diaper. And, as anyone in their right mind, at the crack of dawn, would...we get dressed and decide to go to Dupar's (our local 24/7 old school eatery that makes the greatest pancakes ever). What the hell else is there to do with a baby on Mother's Day at 6:30am? Anyone? Yeah. Didn't think so.
So we walk into Dupar's, which, incidentally, happens to be one of my favorite places to go with our son. It's a place where he can toss a plate of eggs and pancake remnants all over the floor and no one cares. Why is that? Because we're just one table of twenty tables with children under the age of two. We're just one table of twenty tables with bleary eyed, haven't showered in three days, no clue where the giant stain on their t-shirt came from...parents. We're all in this together and that's what I love about it.
So we eat our breakfast, and walk around the Farmer's Market. At this point, it's 7am and while twenty somethings around Los Angeles are puking up the last bits of their Skinnygirl Margaritas from the night before, Mike and I are making friends with other cracked out parents who can't help but think...in the dark corners of their foggy foggy minds...as their child screams bloody murder...how it's possible to lose another sippy cup. We make eye contact with these people. We smile and nod at them with a tacit understanding that we're all in the same boat. We're all dying to know how we're going to occupy our kids for the next twelve hours before their mid afternoon nap. There's only one thing to do.
GO TO BABIES 'R' US.
When all else fails...when you have no clue what to do or where to go...GO TO BABIES 'R' US. It's an oasis for all parents from all walks of life. You know if you go there, you'll spend $188.50 on shit that you most likely need (even though you forgot the list that you never actually wrote in the first place). Shit that will probably feed your baby or keep your baby from pooping everywhere or shit that lights up and plays music and will keep your baby occupied for the next five minutes and for that, you'll pay $188.50. There are times when you'll pay $1188.50. It depends on how desperate you are.
And apparently, there are people out there as desperate as we are. As we pull into the Babies 'R' Us parking lot at 8am on Mother's Day, we see a line of people waiting to get into the store.
ME: "Um...I think it's closed."
MIKE: "No, that's not possible. It's 8am. Every parent in this city has been up for six hours already."
I'm not going to lie. I kind of start to panic. Here we are. We need formula. We need diapers. We need toys. Our baby's asleep. We have a window. IT'S MOTHER'S DAY AND I WANT TO CROSS THINGS OFF MY LIST GODDAMN LIST!
It's definitely closed and there are definitely people standing out there like it's 1980 in Soviet Russia and they haven't eaten bread in two weeks. They look like they want to cross things off their list too. They look like they're missing their window and it's sad. So sad. And as if just seeing their faces wasn't pathetic enough, the manager peeks his head out the door and hollers...
"We don't open until 9:30! Don't you people have anything better to do?!"
And all we want to shout back is, "QUITE FRANKLY? QUITE FRANKLY SIR? NO! WE DON'T HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO! THERE! WE SAID IT! WE DON'T! AND GUESS WHAT?! NEITHER DO YOU SO OPEN THE F-KING DOORS SO WE CAN BUY OUR ORGANIC SPINACH APPLE PUREE AND OUR VALUE PACK OF ONESIES F-KER!!!!!!!"
MIKE: "What should we do now?"
We both look at the baby, who's sleeping so beautifully in the back seat that we would be the biggest morons on the planet if we were to do anything but continue driving. So we do.
All the way to Bed Bath and Beyond.
Which is open.
And we spend $188 dollars on new trash cans and Sham Wow. And I cross those items off my list and head into brunch and the rest of Mother's Day feeling accomplished and relaxed and like the multitasker mommy that I am.
Ah yes. If only Mother's Day could be every day.