I just hate it. It’s a yearly reminder that my mom is gone and my family really doesn’t care that much about me. Sure they say they do, but they don’t really show it.
I’m so depressed now because I stupidly hoped for something different this year–that the kids would do something for me or think of me in some way. But they didn’t and I don’t know why I expected anything else. You know that saying about definition of insanity. Mother’s Day is a perfect example of the premise for me.
I probably should have started by staying off of social media because seeing all of my family and friends posting tributes to their mothers or pictures of what their kids/grandkids got or did for them was just depressing.
I got… nothing. Well, I got a candy bar from my daughter’s friend. That’s the only gift.
Then one of my kids asked me what I’d like for breakfast, hypothetically speaking. Guess she really did mean hypothetically because she wasn’t even home on Mother’s Day.
When I went downstairs to get some coffee since I didn’t get the breakfast in bed I was hypothetically promised, the kitchen was a disaster of dishes piled everywhere and dirty counters. There was food all over the table, high chair and floor from when the baby last ate that my daughter never cleans up. I immediately went back upstairs without getting any food and only had microwaved coffee from yesterday.
Then later, I decided to try and do some yard work. I eventually asked my 9yo to help and all he did was whine about how hard everything was until I gave up even trying. He went right back to playing on the computer and I went back to my room alone.
My oldest daughter had to work (her first Mother’s Day) so my husband was busy with babysitting. My oldest son who doesn’t live with us at the moment texted me a Happy Mother’s Day. The 17yo (who said she would cook me breakfast) eventually texted me in the afternoon. My brother texted also. I didn’t even see my 14yo all day. And when I tried to cook dinner, it was such chaos in the kitchen, that I gave up. No one brought me any food or anything.
Eventually, I made myself a box of Kraft macaroni with some meatballs.
Happy Fucking Mother’s Day to me.
So, yeah, just another day.
I don’t know why I keep expecting anything else. After nineteen years of this, it should just be expected that I will be ignored. There’s a lot of lip-service about how I’m a great mom and they all love me so much but no follow-through. The only cards I get are usually from my dad and brother (sometimes my in-laws) or drawn on lined paper with five minutes of effort. Any gifts I’ve gotten were because the schools had the kids make something. My husband and kids would never put any effort into a day just for me if they weren’t forced apparently.
I just hate this day. I hate hate hate Mother’s Day.
Now, I’m so fucking depressed, I can’t stop crying because this is my life and I’ll never have those nice memories of my family just doing stuff for me because they love me.
That’s just not my life and never will be.