Boys, a little guilt trip.....

To my sons Zachary and Evan,

I am writing this on Mother's Day, May 8 2011 with the intent of sending this to you on an annual basis just before this very holiday each year. The purpose? To remind you why you owe me. To play the guilt card and gently suggest that you do something nice for the woman who gave you life.

This weekend was suppose to be a fun filled, family mini vacation in Monterey. I had high hopes for our little get away. I planned activities I thought we all would enjoy. A visit to the Monterey Bay Aquarium. An evening in a hotel with a pool. Ice cream in a tourist city. It should have been grand.

But you boys were ROTTEN. Down right bad. Clearly you failed to read the instructions I laid out clearly for you in my last post. I provided you with five easy steps to ensure we all had a happy Mother's Day. You failed to follow most of them . Although I got a spa gift card from your father, and some handmade gems from you, you misjudged the importance of my other requests. What about the card with the long list of why I am an amazing mother? I had a girlfriend post a quotation from her own five year old's card. Her child said something like "Mommy I love you so much because you are so nice, and take me on play dates and make me good food and give the best hugs." I got a note with one word. Pirate.

I also kindly asked you to refrain from fighting, whining and crying, yet that's exactly how you both spent most of the weekend.The aquarium was a total bust. We should have known better than to visit on a Saturday. The entire attraction was packed with families, making it difficult to see the exhibits and keep track of two spastic boys running in different directions, yelling something about hating their brother. Meals at even the most family friendly restaurants were pure torture. Whining about entree selection, throwing waded up napkins at fellow diners, and screaming "I hate you mommy" before the meals even arrived. Not fun.

Boys, you also got the timing wrong. I requested that our day of family fun begin no earlier than 9am, yet you selected 6am. 6am! Isn't mommy suppose to get some extra sleep on her special day? Didn't I read something about breakfast in bed somewhere? We were in a hotel, but it seems like perhaps you could have mustered up extra effort to pamper mommy on this very important day. Nope. Up and at them. You boys were hungry so we opted for the bland hotel continental breakfast with bad coffee.

And now, rather than attempt another disastrous family meal, I am hiding in my office while the two of you eat a dinner of frozen pizza while your dad pulls his hair out. I am sitting up here feeling fairly angry that we wasted the money on this terrible weekend, and wondering what I have done wrong. Why wasn't this weekend wonderful? Why didn't you love hanging out by the ocean? Why didn't I get hugs and kisses? Why do you keep telling me that you hate me?

Next year no expectations.

Happy Mother's Day indeed.

So my dearest boys, by the time you read this you will be older. Old enough to know how to honor your mother in a special way. Diamonds will do.

Love,
Your Mother