hello, how are you?

I don't believe I am a fan of Mother's day. I love my children to bits, (they gave me some nice cards.) but some days one feels pretty worn down by the gig, and unfortunately yesterday was that day. I shouldn't have looked at the internet where everyone else seemed to be having a lovely time. Of course the internet is fully of carefully curated lies. (let me tell myself this so I don't scream. And if you had a lovely day that is cool. Don't tell me about it. In fact just be quiet. See, shhhhh so easy.) So maybe people had a less than lovely day too.
It was just one of those reminders of how women are socially conditioned into certain jobs and into certain situations. Where one spends a life carefully observing the social/emotional temperature of a room. How is everyone doing? Why did they do that? Hrm, I bet they are feeling this way. I better do this and then that should even things out. I want to make everyone happy. I want to make things easier for everyone. That is how I end up feeding the fucking cat early in the morning, and then making the kids bespoke breakfasts. On god damn Mother's Day. What the fuck was I doing that for?

Some of this comes from growing up in a home with a parent who was a sociopath and so I always had to be on my toes. I felt the responsibility to try and keep situations calm. To remove myself from any attention. (because there is where there is safety.) And to this day I am kind of ashamed of well... every emotion I have. Like I have no business having them. That I am a real asshole for feeling any which way about something. I have lived half of my life without my Father and I still have these traces of his existence in how I live. I have worked so hard to shed much of that but these are my instincts. I must tend to everyone.

I made dinner. Something my kids truly love. I put care into it. And what did I get? Criticism because something wasn't exactly like it usually was. I reached my breaking point and walked out the door after telling everyone at the table what I thought of them and their treatment of me. I went for a good walk along the cliffs. Contemplating running off to Italy or something. Somewhere. Anywhere from these ungrateful people I call my family.
Then because I am an asshole I remembered, "We are out of orange juice for Mr. Jenner's lunch, Senor Onion has to have a packed lunch for that field trip so I better get ham for his sandwiches because he likes those, and we are just about out of toilet paper." I went to the grocery store. Bought all those fucking things and came home. To a mess in the kitchen. I cleaned that up. Thinking, "They can't even be bothered..."

I calmed down. I apologized to the kids because I scared them. (they were upset that I would never come back.) How does one explain, "Mom is fucking depressed sometimes. And she always will be. You have it pretty good. SO FUCKING GOOD!" But they are okay today. They are. Kids are. I tell myself this.

Then this morning I lost the love of the cat because he didn't like how I gave him his flea treatment. And so he has been treating me like I am some kind of bastard who beats cats. Thanks a lot you bastard cat. I buy you the fucking fancy wet food you like, and go to great lengths to keep you in good health. I let you sleep on my bed. Another asshole.

Next year I am going to go away for Mother's Day. I am going to go to some nice place where someone else makes me dinner. And I have peace and quiet.

These are the true feelings of a less than patient Mother.

Later on I watched "The Night Manager" and ate a box of chocolates I bought for myself. I didn't share a single one of those fucking chocolates. MINE ALL MINE.