I think I bought into the Mother’s Day hype a little too much. Despite the practical realist who dwells deep within me, my inner romantic dreamer hoped against hope for a relaxing, pampered Sunday during which I could kick back, enjoy a foot massage perhaps, eat endless brownies and watch my soaps or Gilmore Girls DVDs or whatever I damn well pleased.

Instead, I had to face reality: I had promised to host my family for a Mother’s Day/birthday combo celebration. Granted, the party was at my parents’ house (because everything at home is STILL a mess). But even without the chore of cleaning, I still had to get all the food, decorations and gifts ready. Plus I had to entertain our daughter all morning while my husband painted trim in our soon-to-be new joint office. We ended up running errands and playing at a playground (well, she played as I hobbled and limped after her with my pregnant sciatica in full effect).

Now I should point out I was awakened yesterday by my beautiful girl saying “Happy Mother’s Day” and urging me out of bed to partake in doughnuts she and Daddy had just bought for me. That was sweet. And they got me some lovely roses and cards to show their appreciation for me.

Also, I know my mom enjoyed the party and the fact she didn’t have to cook or decorate or clean up. She totally deserves to be spoiled and I was glad to help. And I can’t forget — I volunteered to do all this. It was my daughter’s birthday (which is actually next weekend) and my brother’s birthday and Mother’s Day, and I wanted to please them all.

Still, by the end of Sunday, I was so exhausted and in pain, I just wanted Mother’s Day to be over. I don’t know if or when a day “just for me” is in my future, but at least on regular days, I don’t have any illusions.

Oh, and if you happen to be one of those lucky moms who actually did get spoiled for the day and didn’t overload yourself with tasks and duties, good for you. Please don’t rub it in!

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