Mixed Bag Mother’s Day

So I know I’m a bit late to the party, but I had a good (read: lame) reason. I’ve been busy. lol!

My Mother’s Day was definitely a mixed bag this year. It started off well enough. I picked up two of my kids from their dad and we went to church. The service was fantastic, and the kids were well-behaved. After church, we went home and had lunch. Then I got an email from my dissertation chair about my proposal. I spent the next three hours doing more edits, emailing, and uploading. Long story short: my proposal still is not resubmitted for approval; however, it is at least ready to be submitted. I’m just waiting for my chair…again.

After that, my hubby got home from work and we went out to dinner. I chose the Cracker Barrel since we hadn’t been there in forever, it was a cheat day for our diet, and my kids would all be able to pick something without too much fuss. All in all, it was a nice dinner.

I got a text from my stepson, and that was a nice surprise. I also received a dozen roses from my husband, a new dress from my kids, and a card from everyone too. Super sweet right?! So where’s the problem?

My oldest son, who lives with his dad purely by his own choice, didn’t bother to call, text, stop by (he lives less than 10 minutes from me in the same town), or anything. I saw him the next day at his Air Force recruiter’s office (to sign his Delayed Entry Program papers), and still nothing, nada, zilch. My husband texted him and told him how disappointed he was, and that didn’t even get a response. I said, “So, thanks for yesterday and all”. He just half grinned and walked away. What. The. Hell?

I raised this child from birth to age 16. We had our rough patches but always got along. I raised him in the church and he holds a strong Christian faith. The only reason he moved out was because we (his stepdad and I) demanded he contribute to the household through chores. He wasn’t willing to do anything and expected us to pay for his gas and drive our cars. We held the line, and he moved to his dad’s. And yet…I still expected at least a freakin’ text. Brat.

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