Because I’m a mother and it’s my day, dammit.
Plus, my little kids are at that perfect age when fetching the pong ball covered in beer and dust bunnies is the real game. “Can I clean off the pong balls, please?”
Yes, dear children, you may.
Readers, please be advised that the children did not drink the beer. They did not play Beer Pong. (For God’s sake, they’d be horrible at it.) They were asked to help Mommy and Daddy and, with pride, they obeyed, because children need attainable goals so they can feel great about their accomplishments, and in turn, we get something out of it. The Basics of Awesome Parenting. Boom.
Further, the children see their parents enjoying an activity together. They see Mommy and Daddy as they were in the Good Ol’ Days – they see an actively loving relationship of two happy people enjoying home. They see that Mommy and Daddy are friends.
But being a mother isn’t really what Mother’s Day is about – it’s about doing whatever the hell you want to, because you’re a mother and you’ve earned it. You were dead sober for an eternity (9 months is an eternity, as every mother knows), you were awakened several times every night while your snoring, well-rested husband obtained his beauty sleep, and then you endured the nasty years of your bratty little beasts declaring, “I want a princess picture and you’re going to give it to me!”
So have a beer. Have twenty. Play Beer Pong in your dining room. You’ve earned it. And then make those adorable little brats fetch the ball.