Un-Happy Mothers Day to me . . . Entry for May 13, 2007

Why do our children test us so? On the one day of the year I’m supposed to be appreciated for giving birth and raising and loving my offspring through thick and thin, and all I got was bitching and moaning. I asked them to pick up the living room after all the mess that got left after emptying the bookcases and you still can’t walk across the floor without stepping on something.

I asked my son twice to put away the dishes and the third time I told him he blew it, and now he has to wash them. This was around 6pm, it’s now after 9 and they’re still not done. Nothing was taken out to prepare for a nice meal and every time I asked for cooperation, all I got was excuses on why they shouldn’t have to.

A few days ago I drove the 250 mile round trip just to talk to my ex husband (who has my other 17 year old twin son living with him) because I’d been trying to get a hold of him for 2 weeks with no luck. I had to finalize the details of my kids staying with him for the summer and my time before eviction is quickly running out.

I also wanted my son to sign the Mother’s Day card I bought for my Mom, then thought since he isn’t in school, I could take him home and he could help me with packing while my other 2 boys were gone during the day. And besides, I really wanted him home for Mother’s Day. (I also stopped at a girl friend’s house, but that’s an adventure for a different post.)

I had taken a big tub of the kids’ books with me to drop off at my ex’s and the only bag of clothes they’ve packed so far. I had my son go through the tub to check for any of my books and he found a few, and one very special one. It was a postcard book of scenes from “The Nightmare Before Christmas”, one of my favorite movies.

One of my twins had given it to me as a present way back in grade school, and it’s now missing it’s cover, but all the postcards were still intact in the book. I was happy to see it again and took it back home with me so nothing could happen to it and I could pack it away proper.

So now here I have all three of my boys at home again, and can’t get any cooperation from them without getting a bunch of grief on the one day I was always extra nice to my Mother because I cared. But the incident that drove me crying into my room was when I found out my 15 year old son wrote BORED on the back of every last postcard in the book.

I treasured that little book and couldn’t believe he did it. He had some stupid lame excuse, but he probably did it because he thought it was one of twins’ and was just being and asshole and wanted to ruin something of theirs. But in any case he knew the book wasn’t his, even if he didn’t remember it was mine.

I don’t think I want to “celebrate” Mother’s Day anymore, thanks for letting me vent . . .