A Conscious Lesson

In the back of my mind, I knew it would be a lousy day. So somehow, subconsciously, I made it that way.

And I feel like a wretch.

Mother's Day just isn't the same. And it's not as if I ever did anything lavish for my Mom. But it was still a day that I could spend thinking about her and showing her, in some small way, how much I appreciated her. This year I didn't want to think about her. It's just too hard sometimes and I knew it would make me depressed and I didn't want my Mother's Day to be ruined. So I put those feelings aside and decided instead to think about me.

That was a bad idea and an easy way to ruin what could have been a perfectly good Mother's Day.

I guess I just wanted a day off. Maybe something like sitting on the couch all day while my kids fanned me with palm frawns and my husband fed me luscious, purple grapes and showered me with praises. That's not too much to ask, right?

And so, instead of appreciating all the things (and there were many) Greg and the kids did do for me, I honed in on the few (very few and very minor) things they failed to do for me. And that pessimistic attitude o' mine made Greg miserable - not to mention, myself and the kids miserable.

I was an idiot. And even with all my complaining and b****ing (believe me, I do not use that word, but it is completely appropriate here) I still felt that Greg was the one that owed ME an apology. After all, I am the mother of his three children. Aren't I entitled to one day out of the year where I feel completely, and ultra-over-the-top appreciated and valued? Well... of course I am entitled to that. Everyone is. But it isn't going to come with the attitude and expectations that I had.

I was sabotaging my own Mother's Day. But I didn't realize it until I decided to put my focus on someone else.

After church, Greg took a nap on the couch while I fumingly made dinner for myself. What else was he supposed to do but give up? Everything he did do for me was thrown in his face as not good enough. I can't blame him for trying to dodge those hurling canons. I would have hidden myself in a nap too. But I couldn't nap. I was working on reloading.

Then I decided a cake would make me feel better. And as my sweet little boy happily helped me pour and mix the ingredients, I got to thinking that even though my Mother's Day had been lousy, maybe I could help make someone else's nicer. So we turned that chocolate/banana cake into cupcakes, garnished with confectioner's sugar and sliced strawberries. They were beautiful. Perfect for another mother. A deserving one. Not one loaded with ammunition and ready for the kill.

I slowly disarmed myself and wrote in a Mother's Day card - something I haven't been privileged to do for a couple years now. I sang someone else's praises instead of anticipating my own to be sung. And relished in the beaming smile of an appreciative and deserving mother.

It is better to give than to receive.

So very true.

And when my father called that night and told me Mom would be proud of the mother I am becoming, my arsenal of weaponry was instantly buried in a mound of humility.

I spent the evening reflecting, graveling, and repenting - shameful, remorseful, and guilty. But the apologies escaping both mine and Greg's lips, and the understanding we gained of eachother, was perhaps the best gift I could have received.

It was a mother's day I will never forget. And a lesson I hope to always remember.