I've always hated Mother's Day. Growing up without a mother, I'd have to make crafts for my dad at church or school instead of my mom which always caused teasing or questions. The worst of all was "where's your mom?" because back in the 80s, moms still raised their kids. It was unheard of to have a single father back then. I had several friends with single moms, but none with a single father. Of course, when I was questioned, I would answer with a childish blunt honesty "she killed herself." Aaaaaand...cue awkwardness.
Mother's Day was always a reminder of what I didn't have and never would have again.
When I got pregnant I kind of admit I got hopeful about Mother's Day since yay! I'm a mom now, it can be a good day again, but it wasn't. He Who Shall Not Be Named never really did much for me on Mother's Day because he either was away or just didn't care. There were some half-hearted efforts lest he infuriates the woman he was with, but sincerity was lacking and it wasn't quite right.
It just fell flat and was a disappointment.
I often wondered to myself if I'd built the holiday up too much in my mind, but many of my friends would post images on various message boards, blogs, and groups of their breakfast in bed, gifts of drawings and flowers, and time off from the day in and day out drudgery of motherhood. I didn't get that. I'd get flowers, or I'd get take out for breakfast, and I was grateful for what I got, but it was never a day of being treasured or feeling truly valued.
So boo to Mother's Day. Hooray for wine! (but not whine because I love my kids and my life is pretty darn good too).
Because it's Mother's Day, I treated myself to my favorite breakfast, carrot pancakes with cream cheese spread. It's a bit of work, but worth it.
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