May can only mean one thing...

Mothers' Day is coming. I have (mostly) healed scars from the Mothers' Day fiasco of 2007 when, despite giving birth to his daughter three months earlier, moving house two and a half months earlier (do the maths - she was two weeks old), and spending every day with his two and a half year old son Michael did not give me a gift on Mothers' Day. It was particularly shocking because he had never failed at any gift giving in the past.

He woke me with breakfast in bed and a sheepish expression, telling me he hadn't got me a present *yet*. It took me until midday (when I was cooking lunch for his mother) to finally ask: "If this is not a joke, and you really haven't bought me a present, if you are not hiding something to give me later, you need to tell me now because I'm starting to really feel like shit". Apparently on the Mothers' Day of 2007 I was destined to feel like shit. Did I mention I was cooking lunch for his mother? His mother, who arrived with a gift for me because I had just given birth to her granddaughter and because she knew THAT was a big deal.

I wont relive the hurt except to say that for every Mothers' Day since he has excelled himself. It is important to let you know that I don't think Mothers' Day is that big a deal. Until I got nothing in 2007 obviously. I do remember that by 2008 when I was suffering from as yet undiagnosed depression I sent a text to a friend with the message : If this really was Mothers' Day they would all f**k off and leave me alone for the day. I was diagnosed in June, drugs kicked in and by my September birthday I was loving them all again.

This year I have done something different - I bought myself a wallet last week and and told him it is my Mothers' Day pressie. It is beautiful. I made the error of giving it to him and he has hidden it. Which he knows drives me insane because I really wanted it right then and there. My current wallet has plummeted from being adequate but 'not quite what I need' to being completely useless. I am contemplating just using the pockets of my jeans like a boy until May the 13th when I get the wallet I obviously need.

I have searched the internet and found photos of the glorious leather beast. I was going to post them here for you to look at. But I think a post with no photos probably tells the sad story of this tale a little better. I have something beautiful yet I can't have it, I think it is hidden in his sock drawer under the crappy socks I gave him for Fathers' Day. I know shouldn't look...