Chalkboards and Chocolate

I hate Mother's Day. There. I said it. Before everyone gets their skirts in twist let me explain.

To me, it's another holiday that has all these expectations surrounding it and they're never met, at least not for me.

I don't feel like I deserve a Mother's Day.

I don't feel like I deserve all the heart-felt poems or the nice things that are said about mother's on this day.

Because they wouldn't be heart-felt coming from my family.

And here's where it's going to get really ugly and controversial . . . most days, my children make me hate being a mother.

What does that say about me as a person? As a mother? As an LDS mother?

My three youngest children spent the night with their grandparents last night. My mom brought them home this morning in time for us to get ready for church. They walked in with flowers that my mom helped them pick from her yard. The flowers were very pretty, but I don't deserve them. They make me feel terrible.

My oldest son was supposed to give a talk today in sacrament meeting about what a wonderful mother I am, but he didn't prepare anything and wouldn't get dressed to go to church.

I left him at home, determined to try to make it through church without help from my husband because he's at work, and without help from anyone else because my usual helper wasn't there today. We lasted all of 25 minutes. Not our record, but close.

Why can't I make it through church with my kids by myself? Single moms have to do it. Why can't I? Why don't I enjoy my children? Why can't I get them to listen better? Get along with each other? Help each other? Help me around the house? Why can't I make it through the day without having to yell at someone to get them to do anything?

I feel like I'm drowning.