Here I am again....wandering through my day with this controversial inner dialogue going through my mind. Do you ever have something you're thinking about, that you feel you need to get off your chest--that you want to post about, but you're afraid how people will take it? Afraid of what people will think of you once you openly admit to the feelings you're having?
That's my dilemma today. And it's all because of Mother's day.
I feel like talking about this may unleash the monster inside me. It's been awhile since I spoke up about depression on my blog. Mostly because I've been feeling pretty darn good lately, and haven't felt the need to discuss it.
But, yesterday, that pesky little bug crawled up and bit me when I wasn't looking. And I feel completely ridiculous.
It was a busy day. In addition to Mother's day, it was my brother's mission farewell. So, I slept in. Then woke up to a ginormous mess in my kitchen. No, my kids didn't make me breakfast in bed. It was just Saturday's dishes, papers, mail, and whatever sticky junk was all over the floor (plus the brownies that KJ decided to make at 9:30 on Saturday night). My first thought was where's my breakfast in bed? Then, I caught myself. I shouldn't be expecting any kind of special treatment. So, I cleaned up the kitchen, while my kids turned the bathtub into a swimming pool (diving board included), and my husband relaxed in the living room with his book.
Then, I made the salad I promised for the farewell. Meanwhile, my loving hubby, got the kids ready for church (minus hairdos).
I was playing a song in sacrament meeting with my brother, so the plan was to get there early to practice. We finally made it to my Mom's house by 12:40. Just in time to put the food in the fridge and head over to the church. No practice time.
Then, we sat in Sacrament meeting, shushing kids, and listening the the speakers rave about how wonderful their mother's and wives are, reminding me just exactly what I am lacking, and should be doing as a mother. Why do these meetings always leave me feeling incredibly guilty?
The musical number when well, considering how much we were winging it. Spencer wrote an arrangement of Sweet Hour of Prayer with a hint of Bach Cello Suite. It was beautiful, despite our well-covered-up mistakes. We received a lot of compliments. We might have to revisit it for our concert next week.
So, to make short story long (sorry, I'm good at that), we spent a few hours at my Mom's, then spent a few hours at C's Mom's, all the time, I'm growing increasingly bitter. Especially after C's brother asked me what I got for Mother's day, and I sat there, trying to think of a way to make C and the kids look good, while telling him that I didn't get squat. In C's defense, at 8:00 on Saturday night, C decided he was going to go out and go Mother's day shopping for me, and I told him not to go. I did go shopping on Friday night, and bought myself some things, so I supposed that's my Mother's day present.
At the end of the day, I was left feeling guilty, bitter, under appreciated, and even more guilty for even expecting anything. I really actually enjoy honoring my mother. I love that part of Mother's day.
But, I don't like the expectation that comes with the day in which I'm supposed to be the one who's being honored. I don't like feeling like I'm not worthy of being honored, and at the same time, feeling disappointed that I got exactly what I deserved. It's a strange conundrum, and to be honest, I'm really worried about the effect this post will have once my husband reads it.
Because I feel like an ingrate. I should appreciate the little things he does. Like spending 5 hours at my parent's without complaint, when he really wanted to go home and watch basketball. Or getting the kids dressed for church, even if the dress he picked for Peter was too small (I guess that's my fault for not cleaning out the closet more often), or explaining to KJ when she offered to walk on my back at the end of the day, why she should do it just out of the kindness of her heart, and not because she thinks she'll get paid in chocolate afterwards.
I don't know what this post will accomplish, other than getting off my chest something I probably should never admit to.