Dear Henrik, Theodor, and Elinor, When you wake, it will be Mother's Day. Despite your best efforts to let me sleep in and to shower me with the most beautiful glitter creation in all the land, this day isn't really about me. I've wanted, and waited, for this day to be about me for 7 years. And, to be honest, I've dreamt about a night away from you all to celebrate in solitude, in front of trashy TV, a bottle of wine, and some chocolate while cheering my self on because you're all still alive. But this year, after seeing the lack of build up and prep, I've finally figured it out. It's never about me... it probably won't ever be about me. I 've longed for a day where I could sleep in past 6 AM. I've hoped for a day with no fighting, a trip to the grocery store or even the bathroom by myself, mimosas all day, massages or even a mani/pedi, and, most importantly nothing to pick up or clean, no laundry to put away, and a day without saying, &qu