WASHINGTON, May 24, 2011 — We love what Memorial Day stands for, but let’s be honest. For most moms, a three day weekend is just more work. Here’s ten reasons why this weekend isn’t a holiday, at least for moms…
10. The same children who can’t be dragged out of bed in order to be at school at 8:15 are up and ready to play at 5:43 a.m. on the weekend. And silly mommy, you thought having that extra glass of wine with your husband and staying up an hour later was such a good idea. It doesn’t seem like a good idea when you’re breaking up fights over what cartoon to watch and changing a poopers before 6 a.m.
9. Get a shower and have breakfast on the table by 7 a.m., because there’s soccer at 8…and 10…and 11:45. Yeah, that’s how I want to spend my Saturday. Hot field, kids running aimlessly, coaches yelling things like “Randolph! You take, touch, pitch, and run!” What. Does. That. Even. Mean?
For most moms, a three day weekend is just more work.
8. You get to make three full meals a day for every single person in your house. A big eggy breakfast is sort of a tradition in our family. Yummmm… But three hours later comes lunch. And three hours after that comes snack. And three hours after that comes dinner. Clean/cook/eat/clean/repeat. By Sunday night, the dishwasher is going: “WTF?! Can you people not eat a single meal out of the house? I’ve been running non-stop for 48 hours and my ass is tired.”
Well said, dishwasher, in that we are alike.
7. Errands are the enemy of the suburban weekend, even a holiday weekend. Especially those that I like to call “sneaky husband errands”. These are things like getting the oil changed, something about tires being rotated, or going to Home Depot. Things that should take an hour, but end up taking the entire afternoon. I do not doubt the validity of such errands. I just doubt that it takes three hours to accomplish them. I also doubt the assertion that they could not possibly be accomplished with a child or three in tow. I do nothing without at least one kid with me. This includes going to the gynecologist. So I’m pretty sure you can get a damn haircut with some company.
6. The pool opens this weekend. I am equal parts elated and defeated. I love the pool. I just hate the fact that it requires two and a half hours of preparation, three bags and a cooler, a half gallon of sun block, and a backseat full of foam toys (that I will have to carry and no one will actually play with) to get there. Twenty minutes after arriving, someone will have to take a schmidt, and I will have to argue why shoes are required for the bathroom at the pool, because swimming in the pool is not technically considered “washing”. *Me gagging.* Then it will either rain or the ice cream man will come. In either case, there will be crying.
5. Catch up. All the crap you didn’t get done all week, like the dry cleaners, and the vet, and the grocery store for that ONE thing you forgot, and the post office, and the bank — which close at noon, so you have to get your ass in gear; otherwise you’re standing in front of a locked door cursing.
4. Oh, and don’t forget about Quality Time. You know, when your family pretends you’ve been transported into a Norman Rockwell painting. And you spend all this frickin’ energy trying to take something stupid and turn it into something fun for the family to do fortheloveofpete, can’t anybody appreciate that?! Damn! I’m trying to make some %*#(@*#_% memories here!
3. The mandatory barbecue. You’re screwed no matter what. If it’s at your house - why are you reading this blog? You don’t have time, honey. Vacuum. De-clutter. You should be cleaning the guest bathroom and peeling potatoes right now. They’re coming, and they probably won’t help you clean up, either. If it’s at someone else’s house - either you or your husband will have to spend the entire time monitoring your kids, and often the random offspring of others. Because once those random parents see you’re paying attention to “the kids”, they wander off to go have a drink and enjoy themselves while you plead with their children to stop hitting each other with sticks. Curse you, randoms, curse you.
2. And there’s the Sunday Night Stupor. You sit down on the couch at 9:30 p.m. Sunday night, for the first time since school got out on Friday, and sink into a catatonic state. And you wind up sitting there with a glass of wine in your hand, watching an episode of “Law & Order” on TNT, for the 87th time because you just can’t get off the couch. Your conversations with your spouse consist of grunts, nods, and cave paintings. The only thing that can pry your keister off the couch is the idea of quickly replanting it in the bed. Because tomorrow morning it starts all over again…
1. Oh, what? Monday is a holiday? You mean, a holiday for you. For me, it just means one more day when you’re up in my face, asking for food, making a mess, and generally just in my house when you should be at school or at work. The species Exhaustus Maternus is the only known species to actually like Mondays…as it is the day she gets to recover from her “week end.” Having a holiday on a Monday merely serves to extend that “week end,” and increase said workload on Tuesday by 33%. So, thanks government. And school systems. Clearly, you all aren’t moms.
Julianna Miner and Kristin Wilson Keppler write daily humor blog Rants from Mommyland. They also write for The Huffington Post’s Comedy Page and Nickelodeon’s ParentsConnect.com. Read more Maternal Ammunition in the Communities at the Washington Times. This post was orginally run on Rants from Mommyland but has been spiffed up and made more awesome, just for you.
-cl- 5/24/11
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