Mother's Day Deconstructed

Please don't wake me up getting your father out of bed to help you cook "the" breakfast. I'm in the same bedroom and can hear you whispering and then you say to me, "Mom don't get up, go back to sleep." Easier said than done. Trust me.

The breakfast is planned like a culinary secret mission, as if they were flying to South America to pick the coffee beans and harvest the eggs from a free range farm. There are few things I don't like, but they seem to make my least favorite. I get pancakes, but this time they are buckwheat pancakes. Talk about a distinctive flavor. Were they trying to conjure days from long ago, pioneer days, pot belly stoves and log cabins or were they just concerned about my gluten intake?
Activities and food choices should reflect the honoree. I would like to go to a museum in NYC, and not on the suggested hike on a mountain side. My family forgot I have a fear of heights. MOMA and The Met would be delightful indulgences. We compromise and stay home.
I am told not to clean anything on this sacred day which is ludicrous, because I know what awaits me if I take the lazy approach. It will be a tornado of a mess that will surely anger me greatly the very next day. So I make the bed, do some laundry and straighten the living room. By midday my family has forgotten their no cleaning rule.
Conversations should be vetted. Having a conversation about finances is not the best choice for the day's topic, in fact it is quite possibly one of the worst. I want you to lie to me, save me the stress for the day. Today, if we must celebrate, I want to be blissfully ignorant. We can talk about payment due dates tomorrow when it's not my big day.
While lying around all day, I take a look at social media, and I get more annoyed. Posts on Facebook for the most part are competitive declarations detailing exactly how other mothers were made to feel special and loved. Everyone's family resembles June Cleaver's, the archetypal suburban family. Mine doesn't, so I'm a little concerned and I try not to compare. Logging off for the rest of the day.
I know I'm not a superhero and no one thinks I am, so I don't believe the Mother's Day hype the Hallmark cards propagandize. Thank me a little over time. If everyday could be Mother's Day, just a little bit, with an occasional thank you and an appreciative glance, I could be persuaded to enjoy my family fawning over me for one day. I may even learn to love pancakes.