I didn't go to church on Sunday. Mother's Day is hard for me. I don't want to go and hear warm fuzzy stories about how much someone's mom was perfect in every way.
This bothers me because:
Harry has not let me sleep for a month.
I feel guilty for not being a happy mom when I know there are women who would kill for being able to have kids.
I don't think I'm a good mom. I work, I lose my temper all the time, I don't read books to them, I let them watch too much TV, I swear in front of them, I forget to brush anyone's teeth when I'm depressed, I haven't made kids do homework for most of the school year.
I want my daughters to live their lives however makes them happy and fulfilled...and I know that I'm not making the whole mom gig look good right now.
I work so hard for my kids and they like Toby better because he's fun and lets them play video games.
I don't iron. Ever.
I am not patient, I am not gentle, I am not generous, I am not unselfish.
I love my kids so much and mostly I want to hide from them because I don't want to teach them to be crazy like me.
So, take all of the insecurity and guilt and anger above, and add to it a day of watching everyone I'm friends with on Facebook gush about what their families are doing for them on that day. Nothing makes me feel like I'm right about all of the above like the fact that no one in my family mentioned the day. At all. I guess I should have gone to church so they would be reminded.
I commanded Toby to take me and buy me a donut for each of the ungrateful kids I birthed, and then we got into a big fight. Probably my fault because I'm such a grumpy ass right now.
The end.
