364 days a year I enjoy (and am quite good at) being a mom. I cook. I tidy up. I launder soccer uniforms. I pack healthy lunches, research school projects, remind people to brush their teeth, schedule doctor’s appointments and watch mind-numbing superhero action movies.

But there is one day, one particular day, that I refuse to do these things.

And that day is Mother’s Day.

Mother’s Day I just want for me. And by that I mean, alone and in my pajamas.

Look, I love my kids. I mean, I really, REALLY love my kids. I spent like a billion hours in labor to bring them into the world, so I don’t think there should be any doubt surrounding this matter. As for my feelings about my husband? Well, the man is my life. That’s a universal truth.

I just kinda want them to go away for a few hours, that’s all.

I’m a pretty low-key kind of mom. I don’t expect uber-extravagant gifts or lavish surprises for Mother’s Day.

I simply want time to do what I want, when I want to do it, and to not feel guilty about it. I think this baffles my family a bit. They don’t quite understand my unusual stance on the holiday.

So I’ve taken this opportunity to jot down what — in my mind — constitutes a perfect Mother’s Day.

My Perfect Mother’s Day Agenda

(An open letter to my family.)

Dear family:

Let me start off with a simple request…

Please (oh please oh please oh please) don’t come anywhere near me on Mother’s Day if my eyes are closed. I want to not have an alarm set for ONE SOLITARY MORNING of my adult life. I’d like to sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep and maybe even sleep some more.

(In fact, you should probably turn on a white nose maker on and tiptoe around until I emerge. It’s best not to go near me until I’m ready…and even then, only approach if offering a cup of coffee.)

Let’s talk food next. Brunch, specifically. I want this. I want a luxurious, stupendous, calorie-laden morning extravaganza filled with mimosas and or spicy Bloody Marys. This doesn’t need to happen at a restaurant, it just needs to happen somewhere that I’m not expected to do the dishes.

Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, I’d rather not change out of my pajamas or do my hair, so you might want to start researching brunch recipes on Pinterest. (Preferably something with chocolate in it.) Note: This means you’re doing the dishes.

Once the food consumption est fini and the mimosas start kicking in, I’d like to saddle up to the computer for some serious slacking off on the Internet.

Yes. Really.

Look, it’s MY day and if that’s where I find joy, its better for every one if I’m not judged and just left alone with the glorious spans of the interwebs. It’s been quite some time since I’ve been able to catch up on cat videos and memes and I have a serious case of FOMO right now.

While I’m digging into my screen time, it would be great if you guys could take this opportunity to do ALL THE THINGS. And by “all the things” I mean anything and everything that I usually do on the weekend to prep us for the week. We’re talking laundry, meal planning, shopping, vacuuming, and on and on and on. I want to shut the office door and surf the net while knowing all of my chores are being accomplished by other people.

A word of warning in advance: There is a very strong possibility that all of the brunching and web surfing will have exhausted me to the point where I’m most likely going to need to curl up with my blankie, take a nap and read a book. Luckily for you I am fairly self-sufficient and will not require any assistance from other human beings to accomplish these things. Carry on with the chores. I’m good. 

As for the evening, I’m not looking to be a total hermit. I do actually like you people. Lets get the family together, order pizza and curl up on the sofa to binge watch us some Netflix.

See? A simply perfect, non-extravagant mother’s day. (You’re welcome, honey.)

Hugs and kisses,

Mom