There are no grand acts of love and appreciation on this holiday (besides the incredible and very public outpouring of love from Ben each year). There's no breakfast in bed made by my girl, no homemade cards that are actually made by her, no real recognition or understanding of the day at all. We talk about it, they talked about it at school, at Sunday school, and Ben took her shopping for gifts and cards for me. Still, it just is what it is.
So, this year for Mother's Day, we planted our garden...
If all goes well, we should have carrots, lettuce, tomatoes, basil, chives, peppers, beans, zucchini, and cucumbers.
|visiting the nursery|
|trying on hats between grabbing bags of dirt|
|Preparing the bed|
|I planted flowers in the front|
|Little Bird's favorite part of the day|
And then my Mother's Day ended as most of them have- with me in tears. I don't just cry for me and my failed expectations or my self pity. I cry for her, too. I just want to help her. I just want her to feel more comfortable in her skin; to be able to express herself better, get her needs and wants met. I see her trying to ask for or request something but after two or three times of someone not understanding her, she just gives up. I hate seeing her give up. But, sometimes, it's just easier than fighting so hard. I get that.
I'm so grateful that I have a partner that gets me; that lets me cry without shaming me or minimizing my feelings. Instead he just holds me and encourages me as my tears fall. And I don't shame myself anymore either. I know it's a process and I try to work through and walk through it all with grace and dignity, all the while loving and fighting for my Little Bird.