SquarePeg Books

They forgot Mother’s Day.

The kids I can let slide, because I couldn’t remember when Thanksgiving and Christmas were until I was in college, so it’s kinda hard to point fingers at 12 year olds.

But the husband…

I asked if he’d made any plans for today. Just like that. I didn’t ask “What are the plans for Mother’s Day today?” I asked “Did you plan anything today?” I actually wasn’t trying to bait him. I was trying to plan my own day. Are they making a dinner that I need to be home for? Is there some mid-day excursion for which I should dress appropriately? Hiking? Going to a Trampoline Park? A movie? Perusing a garden store so I can choose my yearly sacrificial victim outdoor decorative plant?

“Just keep working on bringing the new server online,” he said.

“Is your Mom still getting up before 9am?” I ask. My goal for this question is, in part, spiteful. The other part is more about convenience. I don’t want to hear about how “it would’ve been nice if the kids had called me for Mother’s Day,” *hint, nudge*.

It’s 930am.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well that means I can dial her up for the kids,” I say, as I pull the number up on my phone. In my daughter’s room, I hand off the phone to her and say, “talk to Grandma. It’s Mother’s Day. When you’re done, hand it off to your brother.”

Again, this was not an entirely spiteful move. Brant’s family expects phone calls for every holiday and birthday that they hold dear if we can’t be all together for it. If Brant isn’t going to do it, that means I need to get it done or face the consequences. (My family is almost a complete 180. If I get a text saying “BTW your Dad is getting surgery tomorrow” I feel not only like they were thoughtful enough to include me, but that I only need to acknowledge the coming event, ask if they need anything, and assume that if I don’t hear anything further, then the surgery was a success.)

I go to take a shower and send a text to a single friend to call his mom, and another text to a mom friend of mine asking if she has any plans for the day (her family has an odd schedule, so it’s always possible that holidays get celebrated on other days in order to accomodate little things like work and what-not).

I finish my shower and get out to see Brant talking to his mom on my phone and one of the cards out of the card box that I have for birthdays and holidays and such. This is more about avoiding the card aisle for a 30-45 minute task as we involve the kids in picking out appropriate/humorous cards for various occasions.

Somehow, that cheeses me off even more.

I’m actually glad I didn’t get another “breakfast in bed” scenario. I always appreciate the effort, I always say “thank you,” but honestly? Cold, overcooked, unseasoned eggs is not exactly something I look forward to. But at least the effort was put forth for the occasion.

I know what you’re thinking: “Katty, seriously? It’s a shallow holiday that was hijacked by Hallmark. Even the inventor of the United States Mother’s Day went on the record to regret it. Get over it.”

There are so many reasons to get over it.

There is a very serious reason for why I don’t.

But we’re not going into that reason right now. Right now, the only thing you, dear reader, need to know is that vengeance will be mine. Not by “forgetting” Father’s Day (I scheduled and paid for it back in March, and it cost quite a bit, so even if Brant doesn’t want to do it, I’m doing it, so there.). No.

In writing.

Let this be a warning to you all: Do not forget important dates to someone WHO IS A WRITER. Forgetting it means you may be immortalized, badly, in a story.

Yes. I can be petty.

Happy Mother’s Day.

I have to call my Mom, now.