The Craptastic Adventures of an Imperfect Mom

Today is Easter and I have done nothing for my kids. No, wait, that’s not true. I made brunch reservations. Does that count? No, probably not. But there are no baskets, no candy, no annoying plastic grass, no treats…nothing. Truth be told, I feel a little guilty. I feel like I’m letting them down. They’ll say they don’t care, but I’d bet that they’re expecting something, anything to be sitting on the kitchen counter when they wake up this morning. I guess I just ran out of steam and ideas.

It wasn’t too many years ago when I would be up at dawn hiding eggs all over the house and abundantly filling baskets with candy and assorted treats. I was so obsessive that if we went on vacation over Easter, I’d hide the goodies in our luggage and wait until the kids were asleep to do the Easter Bunny’s job. It was so important to me to perpetuate the fantasy. No, I don’t mean the Easter Bunny fantasy. I mean the fantasy that I’m a perfect mom.

I’ve been working long and hard on that story. I think it was borne out of my need to prove that despite the fact that I worked full-time, I still loved my kids as much as the stay-at-home moms did. It was so important to me that my kids and the people around us could see my devotion. Holidays were a big part of that. I attacked Christmas and Easter and Halloween with a fervor usually reserved for Olympic competition. If I wasn’t going to be at home for my kids then, dammit, we’d have so many holiday traditions that we’d just ooze warmth and cuteness.

And we did…for a while. I planned and I hid and I prepared and I shopped. I bought more crap at Hallmark (the hallowed headquarters of holiday excess) than I could fit in my house. I spent my lunch hours driving to malls and shops to find adorable kitsch to decorate our house and thereby demonstrate my love. When the kids were little, it really was fun. Their enthusiasm fueled my obsession.

Then little by little, things changed. Their excitement waned. They woke up later. They spent less time looking at my purchases and appreciating my preparation. They became more interested in text messages and IMs than where the eggs were hidden or what was under the Christmas tree. Basically, they started to grow up. Sigh.

This story doesn’t have a sad ending. I’m not completely giving up, I’m just resigned to zigging as they zag. I still have a few tricks left up my sleeve and the ability to surprise them once in a while, only it won’t be on everyone else’s holiday schedule. There are still care packages and mini shopping trips and small gestures that can warm even the most cynical teen. Although I no longer have the need to prove I’m a perfect mom, I’m still determined to show that I’m pretty damn cool.