One day you stop being the center of your child’s universe, in my case that is plural. You don’t even notice when it happens. When you realize it, you’re blindsided by it. Right now there is such a contrast between my interactions with my older children and my younger children. That the difference is almost heart breaking. When the babies see me I am greeted by smiles that light up the room. My older children usually have their hands out. The me me me’s is all I seem to get.
I tried to not let this get me down. I kept the tears at bay and chalked Mother’s Day up as just another day. Granted I was not the best daughter myself. I was late ordering my own mother’s gift so I was empty handed on Mother’s Day. The gift is a good one though in my defense. How was I suppose to know there was going to be a cut off on making purchases because of the Mother’s Day rush!
After lounging around in my pajamas all morning it was time to do something. My dear husband offered to take the children and give me time to myself. I was envisioning my day more filled with the sound of laughter and hugs from small children. So I opted for a picnic. But first Libby exploded all over herself. Nothing like cleaning up crap on your special day. Crap on the carpet, crap on the bed, crap on the kid.
We had to retrieve Ramsey from her friend’s house and pick up food. While picking up our picnic lunch August was sending me text messages from the car to HURRY UP. I was not pleased to say the least.
The park was actually pleasant once I made the girls hand over their cell phones. We played and fed squirrels. For a brief moment it was nice. Four hours later we were exhausted and covered in sand.
I ordered pizza for dinner. August accused me of trying to starve her for not ordering sausage pizza. I calmly told her to make something else. I was fuming. But I kept the yelling at bay.
Matt lectured Ramsey on being a mean daughter. She said sorry and exclaimed but I sent her a text.
By the end of the night I was exhausted and my ego was slightly bruised. To add insult to injury Matt was hell bent on making me do his laundry. Luckily for him I found this on the washer not his pants. Or maybe lucky for me.
My Mother’s Day lesson: Sometimes we forget to say I love you. Sometimes we just expect them to know. I don’t doubt their love. And I am sure by their behavior they have no doubt that my love is unconditional.
Make your mother a card preferably one out of dry noodles even if you are 40, tell her you love her, and if she is close maybe a hug.