The Danger of Expectations

It seems that I am most disappointed in myself as a mother when it's supposed to be about me and I maintain some expectations of that.

The other day was my birthday and I'm still trying to figure out why I didn't have a better time. I want a do-over and moms don't get that sort of thing.

That morning, Nick woke up very early and said he felt sick. I needed to send him to school anyway because he has already missed too much school to get a day off for feeling just a little sick. Oh, that did not go over well.

Then, Nick got frustrated and yelled at me because I was pushing him to get ready anyway, but then I relented and said he could skip band when he didn't want to skip band. Did I really deserve to get yelled at on my birthday when I was in the middle of trying to get a decent lunch together for him? Then I yelled at him over 'please' and 'thank you.' I know I'm supposed to pick my battles, but it sort of seemed to me that asking him to be polite to me on my birthday was not too much to ask. It made me cry along with all of the other errands and activities that I had somehow become responsible for on that day that I didn't really want to do. I've got to learn to just say no!

So then, Nick yelled at me again after school. Did I really teach him that this sort of behavior was acceptable?

And at the end of the day, when I was opening the presents Mike gave me, Nick said he had a gift for me too, but was too tired to go get it. Really?

Somebody please tell me if all eleven-year-old boys are like this?

There had been way too much yelling between us for me to consider it to be a good birthday. It would have been tough billed as an ordinary day.

Calgon, take me away!

Now picture me in a clawfoot tub, soaking my cares away with a good book. I wish!

Maybe I'll be a good mom next week.

Thank you for listening, jb