How to Enjoy Mother’s Day Without your Sailor/Significant Other

005Mother’s Day is just around the corner.

Because I’m married to a sailor, I’ve spent numerous Mother’s Days as the only adult in the house. What does that mean in terms of celebrating? There’s no one to plan breakfast in bed, order a pretty bouquet or even pick up a box of drugstore chocolates on the way home.

You’re on your own, baby, but that doesn’t mean the day has to be bleak and miserable.

Here are my suggestions to plan a special Mother’s Day even if you’re the one doing the planning.

1. Think positive! Don’t focus on what you won’t be getting. (And really, is breakfast in bed worth having to deal with the sticky pillows and crumbs in the sheets? I didn’t think so!) Sure, it’s tough being on your own with the kids whether it’s only for a few days or forever. But raising children is amazingly rewarding. Remember how lucky you are to have a family not how unappreciated and overworked you are.

2. Treat yourself! I like to celebrate Mother’s Day with the person who calls me mom, so for me it’s lunch out with my boy, but don’t feel guilty if you need some grown up time. It’s your day. Do whatever floats your boat and enjoy it.

3. Plan ahead! My worst Mother’s Day involved driving from restaurant to restaurant with my hungry boy whining in the back seat . Every place was full because…wait for it…it was Mother’s Day. You know it’s coming so spare yourself a visit to Self Pity City and make reservations ahead of time.

4. Avoid disappointment! If you want a little treat for yourself, don’t leave your shopping until the last minute. One year all I wanted was a simple bunch of grocery store flowers. Could I find any on the day before Mother’s Day? Of course not! Everybody else had the same idea for their mom. If you want something traditional like flowers or chocolates, shop early while there’s still some available.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the great moms out there!

Downton Abbey

050I’m tired and bleary eyed. When the alarm clock goes off in the morning I’d sell my Chihuahua for an extra half of hour of sleep.

Well, not really. It hasn’t come to trading in beloved dogs for more sack time…yet.

The reason I’m exhausted?–season four of Downton Abbey.

D gave it to me for my birthday and I’m addicted. I tuck myself into bed, hunched over the DVD player’s tiny screen. I don’t turn it off until it becomes painful to force my tired eyes open another minute.

It’s not just when I’m supposed to be sleeping.

Yesterday I took my boy to Tae Kwon Do. Instead of racing off to Walmart to pick up a few groceries while he was martial-arting, I sat in the car watching Downton. It’s no big deal. I can get milk, eggs and apples any time, but I HAD to find out the results of Lady Edith’s recent visit to a London doctor.

Part of the attraction is Downton’s gripping story lines and engaging characters. Another is the stunning setting and costumes. But I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t admit I like to project myself into the action. I’m Lady N, a charming cousin from the colonies who dazzles with her witty conversation. (Of course, I get to have a title. It’s my fantasy so I can leap tall buildings or discover a cure for cancer if I want. A measly ladyship doesn’t seem like to much to imagine.)

So when the alarm screams at me every morning and I drag myself out of bed to get ready for my job, I REALLY wish I was Lady N with a diligent maid delivering breakfast in bed and running my bath.

By the time I’ve had my second cup of coffee I realize that given my family’s social position (or lack of it) I’d be the maid, not the lady and I’m lucky because unlike my 1920’s self I get weekends off.

If only I could get that extra thirty minutes of zzz’s every morning, 21st century life wouldn’t be so bad.