Happy? Mother's Day

I'm pretty sure I'm going to quit celebrating Mother's Day. I can't remember last year's Mother's Day too well (which is probably a good thing) but I remember I was Pissed. Off.

I think it was because both the MIL and my mother were at my house that morning making my life miserable by bossing me around and taking over my house. I remember being mad at TB for some reason but I'm not sure what that reason was. Again, this is probably for the better.

I think the bottom line was that it was my day, or supposed to be my day, but not a single part of it was fun or special for me.

This year, the original plan was for the three of us to meet up with my mom and my brother at Chili's (my all-time favorite restaurant) for lunch.

Simple and effective.

But nothing is simple with my family. Technically, this was our celebrating Mother's Day for my mom, not for me. And she refused to make any decisions. It took me forever to get her to decide on Chili's (it was only a coincidence it's my favorite- I swear!!) and then she wouldn't decide on a time. She told me to call my brother and figure it out.

Because I take the words "call your brother" as a personal insult (I know, I'm messed up in the head), that made me mad and I told her it was in HER honor we were going out so she needs to tell us where and when.

This indecisiveness went on for a few days until she finally said something to the effect of "just forget it, then". She goes for the guilt. In desperation, I texted my brother and asked him to call her and figure her out. He handles her a lot better than I do. Somehow he got her to agree to 1:30 at Chilis.

Fine. Done.

BUT then for some reason, the MIL decides she wants to come visit. I'm not sure where that came from, but after a few days of indecisiveness regarding what day she would come (she lives 2.5 hours away, so she usually spends at least one night when she visits), she decided she would get here at 1pm on Sunday.

Which would mean she would basically have to turn around and leave right away to go to lunch. But that was her decision, and SB was excited to have lunch with both grandmothers and her uncle. Plus, she would be around to watch SB so TB and I could go out on a date, which we never do, and would have pretty much been my present, so it was all good.

Until Saturday night, when I came down with the cold from HELL. It actually started on the way home from the Cambridge gig on Saturday (which is why I totally blame Vagrant Girl) and got progressively worse until I found myself awake all night with the most painful sore throat I'd had in my entire life. It hurt to sniffle.

When SB came into the bedroom with her usual cheery "Good morning, Mommy!", clutching her Curious George, Cat in the Hat and Cow stuffed animals she sleeps with, it usually melts my heart into waking up to accompany her into the living room. But I was so grumpy, tired and in pain that I quickly deferred her to TB even though I knew he hadn't gotten to bed until very late (since I was awake all night). Thankfully he dutifully got up with her.

An hour or so later, when I finally rolled out of bed, I felt like death. I couldn't hear out of an ear and my throat was on fire. I couldn't breathe through my nose, so there were all these nasty lumps of mucous on my tongue from dozing with my mouth wide open all night. It was not a pretty sight.

After some convincing from TB, I hauled my nasty pregnant self to Patient First to make sure I wasn't seriously ill or contagious. Almost 2 hours later, I was on my way home clutching a prescription for antibiotics and a fact sheet on upper respiratory infections.

Lucky me.

I spent the remainder of the day trying to avoid my own daughter (yes, they said I was most likely contagious) and drifting in and out of consciousness. I didn't make lunch and got even more pissed when TB came back without any food for me. Sure I never asked, but he KNOWS how much I adore those southwestern eggrolls. There should have been no question. Of course, I wouldn't have been able to taste it, but whatever.

It turned out to be a blessing that the MIL had decided to come, because her presence made SB not care about her nonexistent mom so much. But it was still an incredibly miserable day for me. I never got my present (date night) or any other present. I couldn't even kiss my own daughter because I didn't want to get her sick. Let's hope next year breaks the spell.