Just Say No

Last March, Hubby informed me that he was going to be participating in a car racing event during a weekend in May.  Ordinarily, I’d have just said, “Okay, have fun!” but something in his eyes made me stop and do a double take.  Something in the way he mentioned it to me signaled that he was being sheepish, nervous even.  When I questioned him further, I found out why he was being evasive:  the event was being held on Mother’s Day weekend.

He was going to be away for the one day a year that I can simultaneously do absolutely nothing while reminding the Fruit Loops of all the agony my body went through for them to join our cereal bowl.  The day where my toes get painted, my body gets massaged and someone else deals with dinner.  And the dishwasher.  The ONE DAY I can declare as mine.

Oh, I see.

As you can well imagine, that conversation did NOT go well.  Not well at all, I daresay.

Aside from the obvious “Hubby had nerve even attempting to go” arguments, I was really angry at the organizers.  Did none of them have mothers?  Did NOT ONE of the event planners say in a meeting, “Hey, dudes, my mom is going to be pissed if I don’t stop by with a hanging flower basket for her”?  Were none of them married to women who deserved to be worshipped after nine hundred hours of labor?  What were they thinking?

Clearly, they weren’t.  And by they, I mean the motherless, childless, dateless men who planned the event on MY day.

Ahem.

Hubby and I moved passed that event and I thought I had gotten over it until I checked my inbox this morning.  I got a very polite, very kind email from Fruit Loop #2’s Brownie Troop leader informing me that the girls were going camping for a weekend.  In May.  On, you guessed it, MOTHER’S DAY WEEKEND.

Seriously?

As I fumed about having yet another family holiday ruined by some moron who can’t read a calendar, I got to thinking that we have a real problem here, people.

A real, fundamental problem with the way we value family and family life in this day and age.

And I’ve had it.

When did we suddenly decide to let “doing things” get in the way of what’s really important?  When did we collectively agree that Sunday mornings are perfect times for cheerleading competitions?  When did we all agree that dance recitals can be held for all of Father’s Day weekend?  At what point did we all throw family dinner out the window in favor of a minivan tray table on the way to soccer, dance practice and scouts?

I’ll tell you when: it happened when we stopped saying NO to the people planning events. It happened when we all kept showing up for things, with no complaint, comment or suggestion of an alternative. Slowly and insidiously, we’ve allowed ourselves to get dragged into the art of being busy.  With one added baseball practice at a time, we’ve all decided to give the finger to spending quality, simple time with our families.

In the name of Erma Bombeck, what in the holy hell is wrong with us, America?

Believe me, I’m guilty of being one of the planners:  I’m the PTA president of our elementary school, for God’s sakes.  I can plan the hell out of the 29 committees we currently operate.  Even that sentence makes me guilty:  29 committees. For one school in a sea of schools just like it, all of us, running like hamsters to make things fun for our kids. To make things BUSY.

Enough. I’ve had enough.

As I stared at the camping email today, one word just kept flowing through my brain, it’s sound growing louder, stronger, tribal almost, in my head.  I could hear the word coming from deep within my soul, from the far recesses to which it’s sound had been squelched: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

I’m saying NO to camping.  I’m saying YES to having a Mother’s Day with my family.

And, I’m going be saying NO a whole lot more in the coming weeks.  Months.  Years. Because SOMEONE has to start.  SOMEONE has to be the one who questions life “just as it is these days”. Someone has to be the one to screech the needle across the record and yell, “Enough!”  Someone has to reclaim Mother’s Day in the name of varicose veins, stretch marks and sagging boobs.

I realize that my little voice saying no may just get lost in the sea of voices that keep saying yes, but I don’t care.  And, yes, I know that many of the activities our children and families participate in are worthy, valuable experiences and often, promote family bonding, I really do.  But we as parents need to have a REAL dialogue about what’s important, what we will really cherish after our children have left our homes.  And, as the planners of the events our children participate in, we need to be mindful that some families still want to eat dinner together at a table in their kitchen, still want to sit in church on Sundays, still want to have holidays spent together, cherishing the ones we love.

Fruit Loop #2 will not be camping, at least not that particular weekend.  In fact, we might just pitch a tent and have a good old fashioned Mother’s Day campout in our backyard. Because NO is the smell of a campfire and the joy of family time.  NO is the sound of tickle giggles and the flash of flashlights.  NO is my Fruit Loops tucked in sleeping bags next to me.   And I have to tell you, I like the way NO sounds, even if I hate camping.

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