Tag Archives: Expectations

Mother’s Day and why I hate it.

11 May

I hate Mother’s Day.

I’m a mother of two.

I work hard every day of my life providing for the physical and emotional needs of my family. I don’t expect anything in return.

I chose to be a mom.

Being a mom is a 24/7 job, not for the faint of heart. It’s work, work, work, the occasional sacrifice, and guess what? More work. But again, I chose to be a mom.

I don’t need a day for special recognition. I don’t want to go to brunch or dinner or presents. I don’t post things on Facebook asking if you’ve said happy day or if you remembered to call your mom or all that other bullshit that flies around on those days, whatever day it is that you celebrate it.

I don’t expect my kids or husband to make a fuss over me.

I don’t want it. I don’t need it.

I can’t stand moms that guilt trip their children, that demand shit just because I’m your mother. Get the fuck out with that. If you didn’t want to do the work you should’ve thought twice about opening up your legs.

I love my mom because she’s selfless. She’s always done whatever it takes to provide and take care of my brother and I to this day as old as we are. She does it without any expectations. She does it with pure, altruistic love. It’s her example I want to follow.

We don’t wait for Mother’s Day to buy flowers, cards, go to brunch, or give presents. We do it every day in any way we can.

This Mother’s Day you can find me in my pajamas, enjoying the day with my beautiful family, doing nothing. It’s what we would do any other Sunday and Sundays are always special because of the time we get to share together.

Don’t wait for holidays to show affection.

Live, love, laugh, today.


My daughter the loser.

30 Dec


I am very much the disappointment of my family.

Once upon a time I was supposed to achieve great things.

I went from being the apple of my father’s eye to the almost 30 year old child he still needs to support. What happened? Where’s the straight A student? The scholar athlete? The homecoming princess? The gifted little girl with so much potential?

I don’t know.

I guess I made mistakes. Too many mistakes. I drowned myself so deep in bad choices that nothing has been able to save me.

But my father tries.

He sends me money. Pays the bills. Pays the rent. Gives me cars. He tells me he loves me, that everything he’s worked for is mine. He cries.

I am a loser and I am not proud.

Not proud of the unimportant, under achieving, blob that has contributed absolutely nothing to society, that I have become.

I have nothing to celebrate on NYE, no resolutions, nothing to look forward to. All I can do is reflect upon these last couple of years, find the moment I fell rock bottom, and find a way to start climbing out.

I’ll make you proud daddy. One day.