What all women (ok, just me) secretly want for Mother's Day

I’m going to do all men a favor and take the guesswork out of Mothers Day. Thanks for thinking of it but we really don’t want the Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman double-heart pendant forged from silver she mined herself in the wild west of oh….east Hollywood. It's kind of cute but it'll just get stuck in my bike chain like all my other necklaces. How that happens is another post. We don’t want a fancy dinner out that secretly means we can’t afford a babysitter later for New Years and have to stay home watching the wax version of Dick Clark use queue cards to count to ten. And we know you love us dearly but please don’t get us anything that makes housework easier cause it will just go to waste and we’ll have to pay to replace the custom bay window we hurl it through. But just so you don’t think I’m all negative with no solutions, there’s good news. The things we really want are so simply, so easy, and probably cost way less than a fifth of good tequila or a refill of Ambien (all the same to me).

I secretly want to have one night where the cat is not allowed in the bedroom.

Its not that I hate animals (ok, I do) but not really because the collective gasp of planetary horror would literally suck me into a vortex so strong my cavity fillings would pop out (which isn’t so bad cause they’re mercury) and my already-skimpy eyelashes would shoot out from my lids, stabbing the nearest person so hard they get pinned to the wall like that kitchen scene from the movie Carrie. I have a big presentation due so that doesn’t really work for me right now. So I love animals. My beef is that our 10 lb cat likes to sleep right over my legs on the outside of the covers, pinning me underneath and paralyzing me in one position. Before you get all the cat is only 10 lbs and I should just fling it off with my feet (which I sometimes do), you have to remember I’m ASLEEP. When you’re asleep, that innocent, fluffy weight is really the spiked foot of a flesh-eating mass of pure evil that just oozed out of the nostril of some alien that looks like your 3rd grade teacher only with the face of that guy from Saw II. I’m just asking for one day.

I’d like to watch a chick flick in my own home.

There are four males in my house. I am mom to three of them and partner to the one with facial hair. I always get outvoted when it comes to movies. For once I would like to watch a movie where none of the characters get impaled, decapitated, ripped to shreds by rabid sharks, or blown to bits during an apocalypse caused by some creepy kid born without a belly button. I like it when the hot reporter still has all her limbs at the end of the movie and isn’t being stalked by her telepathic dead ex-boyfriend. There are pretty dresses, love scenes, slumber parties and maybe a unicorn. A movie where no one cares what she did last summer and the cute guy who saves her from the careening meteorite turns out to be pretty normal, is a great kisser, and doesn’t have a plutonium detonator in his back pocket.

I secretly want a pool table where the dining room table is and I want to stop caring if my kids wear shoes to school for one day.

It’s not like its hurting anything. Some kids in poor countries don’t even own shoes and playing pool is way more fun than eating meatloaf and I bet the balls are dishwasher safe. It’s not like they’re going to learn more if they have shoes on or like there’s broken glass or smoldering cigarettes laying around the school floors. Plus, if they didn’t wear shoes, that’s one less place they can hide drugs, or a knife, or stash money to buy those Monster energy drinks you won’t let them drink at home. Then I could use all those unused tablecloths to make the same dress Scarlet O’Hare made out of her curtains because we all secretly want one of those anyway.

It would be cool if I could have those things for Mothers Day. But if that doesn’t work out, that chocolate mousse cake from Whole Foods is pretty OK, too.