Today I totally constructed my own pity party. . . with no clear data for the tantrum. My husband had to work today, as he does every Sunday. I slept in to the glorious time of 11:15am (Ell was at Glammy & Poppys') and then roused myself to get on with the day. This included some texting with my husband--it wasn't until later that I realized that he had said NOTHING about Mother's Day. This, coupled with the fact that he left my car on empty (despite me being chronically on the verge of labor) AND that social network sites were flooded with amazing reports of thoughtfulness of other husbands left me full of pity for myself and resentment for my husband. I even sent somewhat antagonistic and passive-aggressive texts.
I spun a tail of neglect and carelessness on the part of my husband, especially as he said that he had a card for me, but had wanted to give it in person. A card? A single card when I have provided him with one brilliant, adorable, loving child and have another arriving at any moment? How thoughtless. Callous. Selfish. How could he do this to me? Waaa. Waaaa. Waaaaa.
Imagine my chagrin when that thoughtless husband of mine called Elliott into the bedroom to get my card. . . and they emerged with a card AND a bag from the same jeweler that we got my wedding ring set. Shame! Embarrassment! Sheesh. What was I thinking?
Elliott exclaimed, "Happy BirthdayMother Day!" as I opened the small box to find these:
Beautiful aren't they? I could see that even through the egg on my face.