Mother's Day

Yesterday was Mother’s Day. I’m stating the obvious because it would be damn near impossible to not know what day yesterday was unless you went total hermit and spent the day under a rock in a deep, dark cave. I really thought I had it this year, I really thought I could breeze through the day with nary a thought of distain for the holiday. I did pretty good, much better than years past. We woke up on the early side so we could meet my parents near the farm for a breakfast brunch buffet. Afterwards we went to the farm to visit with my grandparents for a bit and then to my parents’ house to clean. I wanted to get back home sort of early because my house needed to be cleaned since the day before we were out and about at various events and the house was a wreck. Plus, I had forgotten to get Chica Marie’s pills refilled and the pharmacy was only open until 5. Last weekend I bought a new area rug for the living room to replace the one that was looking pretty ragged. I wanted to thoroughly clean the floor before putting down the new rug and so that is what I accomplished Sunday afternoon. Then we went to Dairy Queen for ice cream and I started laundry and washed the dishes. At one point I asked Primero to do something and he cocked an attitude with me and I retorted he should be ashamed of himself for allowing me to wash dishes on the one day of the year I was supposed to be relaxing. Wait, where did that come from?! He declared he wasn’t ashamed of anything, but he did act nicer to me the rest of the evening. Then, as I was trying to get ready to go to bed he began asking me if I remembered certain events over the past few years. I did remember the things he asked me about and we talked about them a little with me wondering what his point was to this reminiscing. He finally told me he does appreciate all the things I do and have done for him and that I am his mother in his heart, even if he never voices it. At this point I was too exhausted to get emotional over what he said, although it was kind of him and his words were sweet. I told him I loved him, hugged him and told him he needed to get to bed. I was glad the day was over because I hate Mother’s Day.

 

Why do I hate Mother’s Day? I mean, I’m technically a mom now, so it should be an ok day now right? I thought perhaps my distain for the holiday would subside once I became a mother. I thought the residual issues of infertility would wash away with the induction into motherhood. Not so. Really, my dislike regarding Mother’s Day stems from disappointment in not achieving my expectations for the day. Not that I think I have very high expectations – is expecting a teenager to wash dishes one day of the year too much to ask for?! It’s the little things. Primero didn’t even acknowledge the day, not a hug, not a “Happy Mother’s Day,” just big fat nothing until the day was done and I made him feel bad for being snotty. Chica Marie thought it was every woman’s birthday and would loudly exclaim, “Happy Birthday!” to every woman she saw. The little ones made little cards at daycare that have their handprints on them. They are nice and I will stash them away from safe-keeping. You know, when kids are little it’s generally the father who does something for the kids to celebrate their mom on Mother’s Day. Since I am single, there’s no one to fill that void. It’s something I thought perhaps my parents would help out with, but thus far they too seem to ignore my status as a mother on Mother’s Day and so I’m left with being forced to celebrate my mom while ignoring myself. Ugh, I really sound pathetic! And that’s just why I would rather this whole damn day be eliminated from the calendar! I’m never so happy to see Monday as I am the day after Mother’s Day!