the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad mother's day...

For me, Mother's day started out nicely enough...
Kort woke my up early, and we went outside for another sunny, (beautiful) Sunday Picnic. He even smiled for my camera, now how nice is that? Daddy came out and ate breakfast with us. And we basked in the shunshine (as we like to call it) as a family.

We ate fresh fruit with cottage cheese and even read some Matilda. (Oh, don't you just love Matilda?)

Then Kort and Daddy surprised me with an awesome gift and card.

Isn't that great?

My boy was really excited. Can you tell?


(In case you were wondering, it was a blender. A really awesome blender. And I really needed/wanted one, so it was much appreciated.)

I told the hubs that what I really wanted for Mother's Day was for all of us to get ready for church WAY early and go on a long family walk before going to church. It was such a beautiful day, and I knew that Kort would be just thrilled. So, that's what we did.
It started out nice...

Daddy took pics of me and Kort walking...

and a very artistic self portrait to boot! (yay dad!)

Then...
Well... all hell broke loose.

Kort made a dive for a muddy, mossy piece of gutter trash (that was being swarmed by little spiders, no less) in his Sunday clothes, and daddy (in true, daddy fashion) lunged and scooped him up and away before he could get a spider bite and/or bacterial infection, and this shocked Kort, and made him really mad, which made him really sad, which made him cry. Like, really loud and really bad. This put him in a lovely mood. Set the tone...if you will. Daddy told him he was sorry and that he didn't mean to hurt him, but the damage was done. Happy time was over.

Kort then demanded that we ki-bosh my family walk idea and go to the playground instead. Dad had already told him no on the whole playground thing earlier in the day.

Do you know what a "No." from dad means to Kort?

Well I'll tell you.

It means that it's time to sneak into the master bedroom and sweet talk mom.

Do you know what mom says when her darling little blue-eyed boy sweetly asks her if we could PUH-leeeeeeeese stop by the park on the way to church? (ESPECIALLY when mom has no idea that dad already said no?)

That's right. She says yes.

Do you know how mad it makes dad when he realizes that Kort has effectively "played" us despite repeated warnings that he. should. not. "play" us? (Answer: Pretty mad, but he hides it well.)

So dad said "No, he is absolutely not going to the park. I told him no, and then he went to you and he knows he shouldn't do that."

Kort starts crying again. Harder this time. With more gusto.

I am feeling sick and light-headed.

Kort insists that we reconsider.

We tell him to stop it and be happy that we are taking a lovely family walk.

He tells us where we can go stick our lovely family walk and starts stomping around and whining and asking to go to the park over and over and over again.

We follow behind him, deflated. Irritated.

I start lecturing him about how "I just wanted to have a nice walk for Mother's Day, but obviously it's going to be Kortland's day instead" and "that his bad attitude ruined our family walk." And a bunch of other things that made me feel like a piece of bad mommy crap. Then I said a bunch of obnoxious things that parents say (and I always swore I would never say) like "Because I said so." and "One more word out of your mouth and you will be grounded."

And so it went.

Me in a pretty spring dress, tired and wretched and lecturing my crying stomping kid on a random neighborhood sidewalk on Mother's Day morning. (You're welcome neighbors.)

So, we went to church and it was more of the same. He had three (yes, three) melt downs (like, on the floor crying like a 2-year-old meltdowns) before the OPENING song was through.

I am angry.
I am tired.
I am stressed.
I have to take a horrible 3 hour glucose test tomorrow.
I have somehow managed to convince myself that this is all my fault.
I haven't exercised enough.
I wasn't healthy enough when we conceived.
I am a crappy fetus incubator.
My kid is 6, yet tantruming like a 2-year-old.
This is also my fault.
I'm a bad mom.
I am incapable of raising one of those nice children who sits quietly and colors during sacrament meeting.
I fell into the (ridiculous) trap of "Mother's Day Expectations" even though I am wholeheartedly AGAINST having ANY type of "Mother's Day Expectations."
I am an idiot for falling for this.
How did I fall for this?
You know what I always say?

"Plant an expectation, reap a disappointment."

That's what I say. (No, I didn't make that up, but I have a very wise mother who taught that goodie to me early on.) It has served me well.

Except for when I'm an idiot and forget all about it.

As Kort topped off his third tantrum, my eyes were full of tears and my heart was full of self-hatred, and it was time to leave. So I left. I stomped home (like a two-year-old) with hot, wet eyes and climbed into bed.

After fuming for 45 minutes, I fell asleep.

20 minutes later, the boys came home.

Then I come to find out that Kort was supposed to sing a Mother's Day song for me with the rest of the Primary. He was heartbroken that I wasn't there to hear it.

Awesome.

Then he wants to sing it for me now. In the living room. By himself.

Then his little (moderately tone deaf) angel voice sings the sweetest words about how great his train wreck of a mother is...

Then I am crying again.

I just love him so much.

He hugs me and I cry some more and tell him thank you.

Then I sort of think that this is the perfect Mother's Day.

Mother's Day (for me at least) is not about being pampered, honored, or praised so much as it is about me feeling grateful that I GET TO BE A MOM. Somehow, I lost sight of that.

I GET to have imperfect, sassy little people come into my life and teach me how to be a better person. To teach me how to think of someone other than myself. To push me to my utter limits and then make me grow big enough to go beyond them. To teach me grace (mostly by showing me how crummy it feels NOT to behave gracefully from time to time.) To teach me patience. To show me that life isn't always fair or anywhere near perfect, but it sure can be funny, disastrous, and sort of insanely beautiful and perfectly imperfect.

That's what being a mom is about.

And I am so lucky I get this training.
I desperately need it.
I think I sort of sucked as a person before I had Kort.
(Okay, I still suck, but at least to a lesser degree...right?)

I still have a long way to go.

But the great news?

Another little person is coming to help me. And he is going to push all sorts of different buttons that Kort never even thought of pushing. And he is going to help me be better too. And that is just the hugest blessing, don't you think?

Happy Mother's Day!