On the edge of Mother's Day

This one really did me in. I mean, it's been bad before, but this one took the cake. I know from experience not to really expect much, but a cup of coffee or kind word would really make the day.

Here's how it went.

I fell asleep with Diva Two the night before, fully clothed (I do this alot because I am (a) exhausted from doing my day and (b) I don't want to listen to the screaming and crying about the "darkness" when I leave the room and (c) my kids are gonna be big one day and won't want me near them so I am trying to cram it all in now). I go downstairs and get in bed with hubby and Peanut (the dog) to try to watch CBS Sunday Morning -- the one TV indulgence I ask for all week -- please, please, please let me watch this show that gives me an informed, peaceful feeling.

What would make the experience perfect was a cup of coffee. In bed. On Mother's Day. I waited. And waited. Then I waited some more. Soon, Charles Osgood was leaving me in some quiet forest with birds, but no coffee. Hubby was still lying there. It was 10:30 and no sign of movement. So I got up and headed to the kitchen to my my own %$#@ing coffee. "Where are you going?" he asks. "To make some coffee," I reply. Suddenly, the covers fly off and he storms outta bed. "I WILL GET YOUR *&^^%$# COFFEE! DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT!" Not really a nice way to talk to the mother of your children first thing in the morning on MOTHER'S DAY.

Now, I know he can be a bit, well...grumpy and usually if I let it go it will blow over. So I get back in bed and he brings me my coffee and gets back in bed. The doorbell rings, it's Diva One back from a sleepover. She's ready to make Mommy breakfast in bed. Hubby doesn't stir. So she goes into the kitchen and starts clanking pots around. Hubby gets up and mutters his way into the kitchen. I get a Lender's Mini Bagel with peanut butter. Not quite the eggs and bacon I was hoping for, but hey, at least it's something.

Then I shower, come into the kitchen and begin making a homemade cake sister's birthday dinner that night. Hubby showers and lies back down on the couch to grab some more TV. Oh, that was after he told me I was wasting time and I should just go buy one at the grocery store. So senitmental!

Hubby was putting away his undies and I went in the bedroom and said that his being grumpy and nasty to me on Mother's Day says to me that he really doesn't give a rip about me. He called me "hypersensitive" and told me to get out of the room. Gladly, I obliged.

Therein, the tone of the day was set.

I cooked all day, did wash, packed bookbags, wrapped presents and tended to kids. I didn't see the outside world all day. I was like a shriveled up toadstool, shrinking from the sun when I went out.

Birthday dinner was good, but I had to get quiet. I drank a lot of wine, listened to stories from old people and didn't say a word on the way home. Doesn't even phase him. It's not like I am trying to get him to "read my mind" or anything but it's just not even worth bringing up.

I'll try again another day.