Every year, you get your hopes up for a quiet day of pampering and every year, your family is like Lol! Girl, you crazy!
Expectation: You will be sleeping blissfully in your beautiful satin pj’s, your bed scattered with rose petals.Everyone in the house tiptoeing and communicating only in sign language so as not to disturb you as you peacefully slumber the morning away.
Reality: You are woken up at 6:00 a.m. by a child’s feet in your face and your husband snoring like a hibernating bear. Instead of rose petals, your bed is littered with socks, strawberry shortcake underwear, and stray LEGOS. You fall back asleep only to be awoken by pots and pans clanging and your husband shouting “Keep it down, mommy is trying to sleep!” It’s now 7:00 am and you are greeted with lumpy oatmeal, runny eggs and burnt bacon lovingly made for you by your kids. They stare at you in a creepy stalker kind of way as you attempt to gag down your breakfast.
Expectation: A long (we are talking hours here people) luxurious bubble bath with candles and essential oils while being serenaded by Michael Buble.
Reality: Lukewarm water because your kids and husband managed to use all the hot water. No candles since your daughter took her fire safety class at school and banned all flammable items from the house. You remember that your son used your expensive eucalyptus and honey infused bubble bath to bath the dog last week so you settle for Mister Bubble instead. Your bathroom now smells like Justice, that’s completely calming, right? You settle in for your lukewarm bath and turn on the soothing sounds of Michael Buble, instead, you are greeted by the crooning of Justin Beiber at an ear piercing volume. Well played tween, well played.
Expectation: After you come down stairs from your glorious morning of peaceful slumber and luxurious bubble baths, you are greeted with a beautiful blue Tiffany’s box. Your adoring children and husband looking on as you pull a stunning diamond tennis bracelet from the box.
Reality: Necklaces made with macaroni and glitter. Oh dear God, the glitter. It’s EVERYWHERE! Is it breeding? Where is it all coming from? How can one necklace have so much freaking glitter. Ow! Ow! Ow! My eyes! I have glitter in my eyes!
Expectation: After you open your new tennis bracelet your husband surprises you with a gift certificate to your favorite spa and ushers you out the door for an afternoon of pampering.
Reality: Your 3-year-old insists on painting your nails while your 5-year-old rips a brush through your tangled hair (is she secretly training with the CIA? Where did she learn these torture skills? Holy mother of God, I’m not going to have any hair left!). Your 10 year old insists she’s the best masseuse on the planet as she drills her elbows into your neck and shoulder blades. “No honey, you’re a GREAT masseuse, these are tears of happiness.”
There is hope….
If your Mother’s Day didn’t quite live up to your expectations, don’t worry, there is light at the end of the tunnel. Actually, there is wine. Lots of wine at the end of the tunnel. Celebrate all the craziness that Mother’s Day brings with a rich, bold and luscious Butter Chardonnay from JaM Cellars. I’m in LOVE with this creamy butter chardonnay that literally melts in your mouth, just what I need after a long day of “pampering”.
JaM cellars chooses only juicy, ripe, stone fruit with baked-lemon aromas. It’s then cold fermented to the perfect, rich creaminess and aged in their own blend of oak, giving this wine a lovely, long, vanilla finish that’s uniquely Butter!
So if Mother’s Day didn’t go quite the way you expected, don’t stress momma, just pour yourself a glass (or 4) of JaM Cellars Butter Chardonnay and bask in all the crazy that comes with being a mom. Cheers!
P.S. You can find Butter Chardonnay at select stores across the nation including Wholefoods, Bevmo, Total Wine & More, Kroger and HEB. Be sure to check the JaM Cellars WineFinder to find a store nearest you.
I was selected for this opportunity as a member of Clever Girls and the content and opinions expressed here are all my own.