So. Mother's Day.

Somewhere along the line, Josh developed the theory that I was sabotaging Mother's Day as much as Princess. It could have been that I could not stop crying in public long enough to eat a taco last year. But I don't know. So he decided to spring it on both of us by going out to brunch after church the Sunday before. Which would have worked really well. If I wasn't already freaking out about Mother's Day. And if we hadn't had a rip roaring fight in the car on the way to (and from church). We didn't fight at the actual church. Mostly because I ditched him when he went into the bathroom.

Not my most mature moment.

So it didn't work and later in the day, after hand-scrubbing the floor- which I only do when I'm really upset. Or really motivated. Mostly really upset- I begged and begged and BEGGED, on my hands and knees, even, not to have a Mother's Day. Unfortunately, Josh insisted because, and he wouldn't stop, that I deserve a Mother's Day. And this was a big problem for me because I realized

I don't actually believe that. 

And I've been trying to resolve this in my head, because, really, I know I'm a good mother. I have three children who are above average in everything they do. One of them has come from almost where Princess was and amazes me every day. But Princess. Every day Princess pounds into my head, whether she means to or not:

• you suck
• you'll never make a difference
• what you do doesn't matter
• you're letting the rest of your family down
• there's something wrong with you
• you just might be crazy

and that's not easy to combat. You have to do it consciously, telling yourself the opposite, the TRUE thing, five times for every one you think.

And I haven't been. I've been agreeing.

Friday came, and the school-aged kids pranced up to the car and shoved all their gifts in my lap and insisted I open them while I tried to navigate the car-rider line without committing an unwritten car-rider line felony that would cause another mom to get out of her car and unload her angst upon me. Because it has happened before. And their things were super-sweet.

(that would be Buddy. I especially like the last sentence)

(and there is Princess. I suspect heavy prompting, but still a pretty big deal. It's all true to at least a degree, and she didn't say anything like, "My mom is close to my heart because she washes my socks." So it's all good)

(Peanut. What I love love love about this is that the big red hear is ME! I am the biggest! And that is a big, BIG deal)

Somewhere around Sunday afternoon, I lost it. I don't know how they did it, but the kids managed to be more awful than usual. Buddy was the worst, and since I can usually count on him to think past himself, it really hurt my feelings. And then my hurt feelings hurt his feelings. Since we are essentially the same person, that let to a cry-fest stand-off in the bathroom.

We eventually resolved it, though, and ended up sitting on the front porch together watching the stars come out, and it turned out to be the best part of the day.

Now we do it every evening.

In retrospect, I should have done it differently. I should have told them what I wanted. Point-blank. I should have sat them down and made them paint those birdhouses I bought. And then I should have left while Josh hung my bedroom curtains and cooked me dinner.

So don't be surprised if you call next weekend and I'm out getting a pedicure. I really need one, anyway.