Who ever thought that breakfast in bed would be a good idea, didn’t have to wash the sheets. Every time I see a commercial, or even a reference to eating greasy eggs, hot coffee and staining juice in bed, I never think of relaxation. I never think of how nice and easy it would be to eat in bed. I only think “Who is going to clean that bedding when the eggs spill and the toast falls over, butter first, right onto that pillow. AHHH that coffee is hot, and it stains!” And what kind of mess waits for that poor woman after she wipes the goo off her lap and crawls from her relaxation?

It may just be me, but I say “Leave her alone!” Let that tired, bedraggled mother of all just sleep! Look at those bags under her eyes and that bleary stare that never quite focuses on any one thing at one time - but scans the day, like scanning a clearance sale at Nordstrom, she looks for a wedge of time to knock off. No, she does not want all of you, Daddy, kiddies, dog, etc, bounding into the bedchamber, all smiles and smug satisfaction at your misguided efforts, waking her from her much needed slumber, which is granted on one Sunday of the year! Let her sleep! Take out the cats, they are taking up her bed space! Remove and wash that dog, he stinks! Leave the house! Don’t make a peep. Tip-toe to the bathroom and don’t flush too loud. There will be no sex today!

I am sure that I sound like an ungrateful woman, but don’t get me wrong. I know that you mean well and you get big points for it! But if you were to ask her what she wants, it would probably be a significant chunk of time in the day filled with nothing. Not food, not drink, not you, not anything. Maybe just sleep and quiet.

Again, maybe it is just me. I did not get breakfast in bed for Mother’s Day. I got to sleep in. And I got a nap in the afternoon. SCORE!

I feel compelled to admit though, that I don’t know how long I can go without That Baby. Maybe sometime in the afternoon we passed in the living room and he ran past me, coyly and I in a moment of guilt, for wanting to be left alone, and unending love, swept him up and kissed his face until he screamed at me and demanded that I let him down. He undoubtedly threw a tantrum of evil proportions, as he likes to do of late. He hurled his body head first to the floor and cried. I might have then called Mr. Daddy and retired to my room.

Guilt relieved.