I begin with a confession. I’m a mother and I don’t like Mother’s Day. There. I said it.
I know I'm not the only one. Admit it. You, too, think Mother's Day is another contrived holiday, a la Valentines’ Day, that pressures normally reasonable people to (a) buy silly, impersonal cards, (b) send pesticide-ridden flowers, (c) take their loved ones to crowded restaurants at odd times of the day because all the reservations at normal meal times (like before 10:00 p.m.) have been overbooked for six weeks.
Or (d) do something really outrageous, like make mom eat breakfast in bed.
Don't get me wrong. I love the original intent of breakfast in bed, but the right setting with the right company is crucial to its success. (Imagine, if you will, a romantic, lakeside inn; a bed pilled high with pillows, down comforters, and sheets I will never have to wash; and a passionate, pleasing and playful BFWB. You get the picture?)
