Scott is growing up before my eyes.
Mother’s Day. 2008. It was the Mother’s Day that never happened. It was just another Sunday to the man that made me a mom.
The playdate that week did not go well. My friends were showing off their new iPhones, talking about their breakfasts in bed, gushing about how their husbands practically waited on them hand and foot. The conversation led them to ask me what I got from Scott.
Oh, uh…um, nothing. After I asked him if he had something to say to me, he said I’m not his mom.
He said I’m not his mom. Mouths dropped. I heard a round of “I’m so sorry.”
I’m not the kind of person that needs to be spoiled in gifts. I just want to be appreciated by the man that made me a mom. A “you’re a great mom to our daughter” or “I could never do what you do every day.” Or my personal choice, “here let me take Emma off your hands while you relax for an hour. Go take a long shower without a set of eyes watching and whining for you to get out.”
I am a woman. I NEVER FORGET. I bring up the Mother’s Day that never happened on Father’s Day. I bring it up on Valentine’s Day. I bring it up on our anniversary. I bring it up on our children’s birthdays. I bring it up on my birthday. On his birthday. On Christmas. Scott has been through 24 months of me politely reminding him that I got nothing on that one Mother’s Day. I mean, NOTHING. Not a word was said.
Last year, he got off the hook because Emma was old enough to understand Mother’s Day. She painted me a picture at preschool. That simple gift from Emma made my whole weekend.
I was knocked off my feet when I received a bouquet of flowers yesterday for Mother’s Day – a whole 3 days early! With a note declaring I’m the “coolest mom ever”. I can finally throw in my Mother’s Day flower bouquet on the Facebook newsfeed.
Happy Mother’s Day, to all you moms out there! May none of you ever have a Mother’s Day that never happened.