So, I have this thing with Special Days.

I feel an uncontrollable and unbridled excitement for any kind of Special Day, whether it be Christmas, Birthdays, Mothers Day, Fathers Day or… really… just any day of the week. And I always hope, NAY EXPECT, others around me to share it too.

But the problem is that my abnormal levels of enthusiasm means I expect too much, and regardless of what occurs, I find myself disappointed. It’s ridiculous I know. I should have been a freaking Christmas Elf.

Because people don’t always feel the same way that I do about those Special Days.

And quite frankly when I realise that those people don’t feel the same way, then I am generally so shocked that I lose the ability to speak. And those of you who know me know that I have words for bloody well EVERYTHING so to not know what to say, or be able to speak is a shock. And probably a blessing for some. Sigh.

As an example, I once cried at the end of a busy Christmas day because no-one opened the Christmas bon-bons or wore the Christmas hats I left on the table. WHO DOESNT LOVE LOOKING STUPID IN A CHRISTMAS HAT THAT IS TEN THOUSAND TIMES BIGGER THAN ANY HUMAN HEAD ACTUALLY IS??!!!

I mean, isn’t that what Christmas is all about?

I didn’t say anything to them. I just tried to will them with the power of my mind to find their own special Christmas cheer. Any Christmas cheer at all. And cried when they left.

And Mothers Day in 2017 was kind of the same. I mean, I didn’t have any silly hats to wear, but my Special Day Hopes were dashed when a bunch of flowers was casually tossed in the bathroom sink whilst I was having a shower. There was no drama. There was no flowery words about my amazingness. Just those flowers in the sink. And on that particular Mothers Day, we sat at home all day doing nothing… except probably watching sports. Because it seems to be either watching that or watching the same two seasons of Octonauts over and over again. #FarkNetflixThereAreFourFreakingSeasonsYouKnowGiveAMumABreakAlready

Now, as everyone knows, it was Mothers Day again a few weeks ago. And because of many past experiences, I started my day trying to think differently about what it was going to be like. I went in there expecting nothing. And wanting nothing.

And don’t get me wrong, by “wanting nothing”, I still kind of wanted everything (I’m shallow like that) but thought I had better play it more emotionally cool than other years to avoid disappointed selfish snot tears later.

So, Mothers Day arrived, and I started the day with a sort of sleep in *see definitions below*.

*Definition One of “A sort of sleep in” – Toddler runs into the bedroom, jumps on your head about 6 times until you have never been more awake in your life and quite possibly have a touch of brain damage, before running out again.

*Definition Two of “A sort of sleep in” – Toddler sings “Happy Birthday” at the top of their lungs under the crack of the closed bedroom door, even though its not your birthday for another 7 months, until you fully wake up and open the door, by which time Toddler has forgotten you exist and has already gone back downstairs. 

Both these things happened. Joy.

The rare event of a “sort of sleep in” is always very bloody welcomed, because having an energetic whirlwind of a toddler and a very wee babe in the house means that sleep in’s are only a distant memory from those foggy childfree days. But that’s fine, because sleep is for the weak. Or at least that’s what I tell my exhausted self as I sob sleepily into my latte.

BUT this day I got one. It was semi refreshing. I loved it.

And then when I woke up, a gorgeous card, a beautiful bunch of flowers AND a steamy hot Chai Latte from my favourite coffee shop, was delivered directly into my motherly paws by my smiling baby, my smiling toddler and my very hairy smiling husband before I could even say “Holy Crap I Just Got To Sleep You Jerks”.

I was smothered in cuddles and kisses (and a little vomit) in appreciation for being so awesome on this special Mothers Day. I truly felt awesome after this loving display.

After that I got to have a lovely long shower. Praise the miracle that is the zombie inducing Octonauts for keeping the toddler entertained enough to make an undisturbed shower possible. And then I was blessed with extra time to make my face look not half dead by putting on some ACTUAL foundation that ACTUAL humans wear to look “not dead” lol. #ShouldBeATagLineOnTheBoxMACShouldGetOnIt

Then like the civilised family that we pretend to be (sometimes), we headed out for brunch. At the local DFO. So my husband could buy some shoes whist we ate. #ItsAllAboutMeThoughRight #JokesIWantedTheShoesNotHim

The brunch was of course eventful. Because when ISN’T it eventful with a toddler around?

We sat down, and…

The toddler poured the sugar onto the table before we could say “stop that or no BabyChino for you”. And he tried to escape the cafe at least 400 times before the food even came out, claiming that he needed to wee, even though we established after attempt 275 that he actually did not.

The Baby threw up everything that she ate all over me (a little bit even went in my mouth), and then laughed like she is the funniest little hungry bugger in the world. #DontSpewItUpThenSweetGirl.

The Husband got more frustrated as he chased the Escape Artist Toddler each time he made his attempted getaway, and he almost spasmed from not looking at his phone, paying me attention was more important this day, but he managed it.

It seems to be so rare that we get out together any more as a foursome, so it was lovely being out with the family who I love and adore, even if they exhaust me like no other.

In the afternoon, it continued. We didn’t do much, but we hung out like we really all wanted to be there. We talked, we cuddled, and we cracked jokes with each other like everyone in the family was as funny as me. Lol. Maybe.

It was a simple day. It was the bomb, the shiz, and although it doesn’t sound like much, it was perfect.

But it was exactly what I wanted and needed for Mothers Day.

And because of such an amazing and loving effort I might even have higher expectations next year…

And in the meantime maybe everyone will wear their Christmas hats.

Are you like me and have high expectations when it comes to Special Days? Do you cry if people ignore their Chrismas hats? Leave a comment below and tell me what your “thing” is… We can start a Special Day Confetti Throwing Support Group xxx