Mother's Day requires therapy

I had almost forgot that Sunday was Mother's Day. I sent my mom a card earlier in the week. I had reminded hubby to do the same. My duty was done.

I wish that I had remembered the holiday before I went to church on Sunday. I could have skipped like I did on Easter (all those families, toddlers in frilly dress, and babies in arms. . .no way). Sure enough the sermon was on Honouring Mothers. The preacher started with a looooooong list of the things mother's do. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a mom holding a baby and his toddler brother slumped beside her, asleep. On her other side was well dressed hubby. I started crying. She was the person I wanted to be. But instead I sat alone on an empty pew. (Hubby was on the road working.)

I did the pretend reading of the Bible and covering my eyes at the same time. I wanted to escape but it would have been too awkward. I found a stray Kleenex in my purse and told myself to get it together. The list just seemed to go on forever. But it finally stopped. And the happy mom even stepped out of my line of sight when she left the auditorium with baby. Small blessings.

The final insult to injury. . . I called my mom after church with the mindset of focusing on my mom rather than on me not being a mom. She thanked me for the flowers. Uh, I didn't send any flowers. Oh that is right, my brother sent her flowers. The phone conversation also quickly became something else to escape from.

Thank goodness, K-Mart had a nice shoe selection for some retail therapy.