Pancakes, Psychopaths, and Post-Mother’s Day Blues

It’s not only Monday morning—it’s the day after Mother’s Day, and I’ve come down with a case of post-delight blues. Or more precisely, that slow tumble off the soft, cozy cloud I was allowed to float on for a few fleeting hours. Now it’s back to reality: unloading the dishwasher (shouldn’t that still be part of Mother’s Day services?), starting laundry, heading to the office, and racking your brain for dinner ideas—plus figuring out when the heck to buy the ingredients.

If you’ve got a typical hangover, you know the protocol:

Hydrate. Eat bland carbs. Pop a painkiller. Sleep it off.

But what’s the cure for emotional whiplash after being temporarily lifted out of your everyday routine?

Turns out, it’s not quite as straightforward. Here's what AI has to say (yes, I asked):
“To navigate this, acknowledge your feelings, reframe your perspective, and seek support. Focus on small, achievable goals and reconnect with grounding activities like exercise and mindfulness.”

So is it just physics? “What goes up must come down”? Is emotional letdown the price of joy?

Before we solve my post-Mother’s Day mood, let me back up and share some highlights that made the weekend worth crashing from.

Saturday was stunning. Sunny, warm, full of possibility. I headed to an essential oil store, running low on Lemon, one of my favorite uplifting scents. Instead of rushing back, I wandered through the fresh produce market in the old town and eventually found a sunny bench in the park to reply to an old friend’s text. Simple, spontaneous joy.

Ever since our recent trip to Stockholm, I’ve been itching to try my hand at kanelbullar - Swedish cinnamon buns. After binge-watching tutorials, I finally gave it a go. The proofing process tested my patience, but they turned out beautifully. I’ll definitely bake them again.

On Sunday, fueled by an early cinnamon bun (pre-breakfast - don’t judge), I decided I should walk it off. To my surprise, my husband didn’t roll his eyes when I asked if he wanted to come along. We headed to a nearby farm with alpacas grazing in the fields. Watching them was oddly meditative, calm, deliberate, peaceful. You wait, camera ready, and eventually one will lift its head. Click.

Later that morning, we waited for our teenage son to emerge from hibernation. He had promised to make pancakes, and he did! They were delicious, and I was touched by the gesture.

Mother’s Day indulgence continued: no more walking. Instead, we watched a documentary on the Stockholm Syndrome, prompted by the fact that we had unknowingly walked past the former Kreditbanken building, now Hotel Nobis, on our recent trip.

If you’re unfamiliar:

In August 1973, a bank robbery in Stockholm turned into a six-day hostage crisis. The robber, Jan-Erik Olsson, demanded the release of Clark Olofsson, a manipulative, self-absorbed criminal he’d met in prison and idolized, who was brought to the scene. As the standoff dragged on, the hostages developed emotional ties to their captors, even resisting rescue efforts. The phenomenon became known as Stockholm syndrome.

The documentary featured interviews with both a perpetrator and one of the victims, Kristin. While the storytelling structure was a bit chaotic, it drew us in—and before we knew it, we were two episodes into the Netflix series Clark.

The day wrapped up with a dinner reservation made by my son. Thoughtful, grown-up, sweet.

So yes, Monday came. The dishes piled up again. The magic dissipated. 

But maybe that’s okay.

If the special days always lingered, they’d lose their glow.

The trick, I think, is to notice the little lifts tucked into the ordinary. Like alpacas on a walk, a  text from a friend, or sunshine on a park bench.

And maybe, just maybe, to keep a bottle of lemon oil nearby for backup.

How do you snap out of your post-Mother’s Day blues? Do you have any go-to rituals or tricks to get back into the swing of things?