My birthday and Mother's day is within a few weeks of each other....and I'm always so reminded of what crumbs I put up with in my marriage.
It sucks that the kids are from a broken home, but the way EX treated me is not the way I want my kids to see how they should treat the future women in their lives.
I want my kids to see how they should treat the future women in their lives.
I hear ya on that one. I have tried to use this whole sordid mess as a learning experience for them. First is the lesson about morals, personal integrity, and what it means when you give your word of honor (I.e. vows). However, I have also told them that if they ever find themselves in a relationship where they are even tempted to stray then they need to have the decency to get out of the relationship first as I never want to see them inflict the kind of pain on someone that their father has inflicted on me...
The last Mother's Day we spent together, ex-asshat and his father watched TV while his mother and I cleaned and BBQed. It was a magical day.
Happy Mother's Day!!
This year, ex-shat's step mother gave me a beautiful bracelet that was 'from' Teslet...I was so shocked to actually get a gift...it really messed with me! That is a sad statement of the treatment I was used to.
The fact that he cooked, cleaned and was generally considerate is what makes this lying, cheating pod person that much more confusing. To the point that if he were 20 years older, I would have him tested for dementia.
My kids are so good to me on Mother's Day that I'm sitting here waiting for something, anything, a call maybe?
Yesterday, I got the most beautiful flowers from some dear friends of mine. It was so sweet and thoughtful. Such a surprise when I opened the door!
Never saw it coming.
Today, guess what? I have my beautiful loving babies with me, I got my breakfast in bed, and we have a great day planned! Certainly miss our entire family unit- but the Dooosh is not the man he pretended to be, so I'm happy to be rid of his lying cheating ass!
It's OKAY to be scared.
Being scared means you're about
to do something really, really brave.
My Prince Charming spent every Mother's Day weekend he could (including one when he was in "solo practice" ---read that: sitting on his ass in an expensive office that lost us tens of thousands of dollars because he could not accept the need to look for a job after being fired YET AGAIN) in Washington DC, at his professional association's biggest convention. (And yes, when in solo practice, this actually took food off our table.) For most, this convention is an annual event looked forward to and shared with spouses/family.
My husband told himself I refused to join him (never was invited, actually) to justify having sex with strangers he picked up at the Old Ebbitt. (I'd rejected him, remember.) Then, he'd wax poetic--on public message boards, among his "best friends"---people he's never met and never will---about how "magical" the sordid affairs were. (These "friends," further reading revealed, had been told, for years, of my continual rejection of him; they were quite supportive of his exploits---just the way he groomed them to be. As far as I know, they still are. If only they knew who he really is.)
Mother's Day. The Day of Serial Infidelities.
He'd come home from his weekend of debauchery mid- to late-afternoon on Mother's Day---a day like any other for me, with child care, work, etc---and proudly exclaim, "See! I'm back in time to celebrate! What do you want to do?"
He'd either be empty-handed, or with something from the airport gift shop. (And as evidenced by "What do you want to do?" expecting ME to have made plans.)
I hate Mother's Day. My kids feel like CRAP not to be able to do something for me (they are kids, and they are broke). Their idiot father texted them yesterday to ask, "Do you have plans for Mom?" and they were so hopeful he was offering to help (as I have, every year, for Father's Day--but never will again)---but he did not. This left them utterly dejected and confused. (My guess? He wanted to be sure that I was not getting anything because, well---he likes it that way. I wish they had not responded, because they gave him just what he wanted.)
It's fine. They will hug me and kiss me and I will know that they MEAN it when they tell me they love me.
But a special day? No. They do that every day already. (And yes, I realize this makes me very lucky.)
Mother's Day? I hate it.
Sorry for the threadjacky vent; it will, at least, permit me to completely ignore any "Happy Mother's Day" text Mr. Trac-fone may be misguided enough to send. And to resist making sure Father's Day is observed, as I have each year since he walked away from his family.