Yesterday, for Mother’s Day, my husband decided to smoke a brisket. Anyone that knows anything about this process knows that it’s a long one. So since he was going to be tending to the pit all day long, he suggested I go to a few stores on my own while he stayed home with the kids. I thought it was a pretty good idea. He knows that going to the grocery store alone is one of my fave things (cheap thrills). So it made sense that he would think I’d like to venture out to grab a gift for our daughter’s upcoming birthday, as well as a little something for myself. I started at Target, but left with a few groceries and household items and no birthday gift. Then I headed over to a local outdoor shopping center to look a little more for her gift. As I drove through the parking lot I saw families strolling together with not a parking spot to be had. I finally settled on a parking spot pretty far away from my destination. And, of course, I had to pee. I quickly got out and headed for the store, but soon realized that I had forgotten something in the car. As I headed back to my car an overwhelming sense of loneliness flooded over me and I said, This fucking sucks, to myself outloud. I didn’t want to be alone on Mother’s Day. I wanted to be home with my husband and babies. Sure, I recognize that it’s commercialized and blown up by retailers. But the bottom line is that no matter how cool you’re trying to be about it, Mother’s Day matters…at least somewhat. When I got back home I even stopped my husband from changing my daughter’s diaper so that I could do it. He had been handling almost everything all day and I realized that I truly wanted to mother them on Mother’s Day. I didn’t want to spend the day isolated at some spa or even just several hours shopping alone. In fact, I didn’t want any time alone…with the exception of about an extra 30 minutes in bed that morning. I’ll take that any day.