Let's Move Mother's Day!

I have a confession to make.
And I may as well open this can of festering worms right here--
I hate that Mother's Day is on
a Sunday.

Sunday--
the busiest day of my week
is no "day of rest" for me.
It never has been.

Church.
Mother's Day is the underdog
when it comes to Sundays
because of Church.
It doesn't matter what time the meetings
begin,
it takes precedence
over
Mother's Day.

An experience to illustrate my point:
In preparation for Mother's Day
one year
I determined to MAKE it a
Day of Rest for myself
by laying out the children's sunday clothes
the night before,
cleaning the heck outta the house
on Saturday,
and did every stinkin thing I could
to make sure
I got my wish for Mother's Day...
which was:
TO GET DRESSED BY MYSELF
and DRESS ONLY MYSELF
for Church.
That was simply enough, right?
It was better than macaroni necklaces
and runny eggs with burnt toast.

Apparently,
it is not possible
to get dressed by yourself
and only dress yourself when
you are a mother of young children.

Come Sunday morning,
shoes disappeared,
socks vaporized,
buttons blew off,
zippers wouldn't zip,
hair brush fairies descended upon
our domain
and stole every hairbrush and comb
within a three block radius.
In short,
it was
Pandemonium!

There was weeping
wailing
and
gnashing of teeth
out in the family room.
I could hear it from my bathroom
where I stood
trying to put on mascara--
coaching myself to
"Stay put. Let him deal with it.
Do not go out there!"
The chaos grew,
and tears started flowing,
then before I knew it,
I stood in front of the whole heehaw gang
and bellowed:
"ALL I'VE EVER WANTED WAS TO BE A WIFE
AND MOTHER!!, then dragging a finger in front of them,
AND YOU PEOPLE ARE RUINING MY EXPERIENCE!"

Their faces dropped,
eyes wide open
staring in disbelief at Mommy
standing there in her slip
mascara in one hand,
finger pointing in the other.

I lost it.
I was trying to hold it all in,
but I couldn't.
A giggle escaped.
Then another and another
until I was laughing so hard,
I was outta control.

The troops joined me
in laughing at the ridiculousness
of my statement.

Mother's Day.
Should not be on Sunday.

I decided that last night
as Mr. Wonderful and I lay in bed
and he asked,
"What do you wanna do for Mother's Day?"
I thought for a moment
and said,
"Let's have a big barbecue on Saturday,
and celebrate it then.  Sunday's are too busy."
Mr. Wonderful sighed,
"Sounds good to me." then yawned
and rolled over to sleep.

Sounds good to me too.
I can sleep in...
o wait, no I can't--
we still have the missionaries over
for breakfast.
Shoot.
BUT, I can go BACK to bed
when they leave.
See?
--this is looking better already.
And for a laugh, here ya go: