I love that you’re thinking of me babe, but please, don't give me a gift card this Mother's Day.
I adore that you want to give me the gift of choice, but honestly I am choiced out enough as it is already.
“What’s for dinner tonight?”
“Do I wake her from that awkward 6pm nap?”
“Is this sniffle enough to keep them home from day care, and if so, how will I manage that conference call?”
I literally cannot fit one more decision into this brain.
Watch: Be a good mum. Post continues below.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that you want to see me happy. What I really want though is for you to simply see me, whether I’m happy or not, and the work that I do - even when it looks like nothing.
I want you to see the mental computations and emotional calculations I am doing to keep myself afloat, the kids alive and the house standing while you’re gone each day.
I want you to remember when it’s dress up day at school, when the car rego has to be done by and to follow up that plumber who never showed up before the laundry floods again.
I want you to keep track of the sports registrations and uniforms and dental check ups, and still have dinner on the table by 6pm.
I want you to remember your own family’s birthdays, draw on their cards with the kids and post them yourself ahead of time.
I want you to deal with the Christmas arrangements, find the stocking fillers and step in when your aunt starts up at me about my parenting.
I want you to choose between staying with the baby sleeping in the pram or climbing the play equipment to rescue the middle child unable to get down.
I want you to be home when you say you’ll be home.
I want you to see when the peanut butter and toothpaste and dishwasher powder are nearly empty and write them on the shopping list before they run out.