I hate Mother's Day! There I said it and I am sure I am now considered at best very strange; probably more like downright awful. But I stand by it, I hate it. I hate thinking about my mother history, dismal as it is. I hate myself for the mistakes I made and the ones I continue to make as a mother. I am sick of sermons extolling the virtues of good mothers, godly, Proverbs woman mothers and knowing that I am not even close. I deplore that try as I might I expect some acknowledgment as though I might deserve it. I disdain the disappointment I always end up feeling when someone didn't remember what day it is.
But yesterday hit a new low in Mother's Days for me. My son told me that he feels like he could/ can never depend on me. When I told my other child what he said; she gave a lot of excuse for his harshness and lack of tact but she didn't disagree. She didn't disagree because she can't; it is the truth. The only prize I could ever win as a mother is for being around; because I was never and will never be "there" for my children.
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