Can we just skip this next year?

Mother's Day. It's just a holiday created by greeting card companies, right? I think I'm skipping it next year.

Hubby was nice enough to try to let me sleep in, especially since I was up 5 or 6 times last night to pee. He even did a little art project with Maggie, who waited outside the bathroom door when I did get up clutching a card she and her daddy made. But it went downhill from there.

Maggie was, again, cranky. The girl does not sleep enough, doesn't matter if we put her to bed earlier, later, routine or none, she won't sleep. The screaming fits started early so I suggested going to the local nature preserve for a walk. This was the same place where hubby took pregnancy portraits of me when I was 37 weeks 2 days preggo with Maggie. I thought it would be a nice place to go and get some fresh air, maybe get a few pictures of Maggie and me together since we have so few (I'm usually behind the camera lens).

Well, Maggie didn't want to hold my hand. She didn't want me to sit on her bench. She didn't want to hug me. She didn't want me anywhere near her. She even hit me with a stick. It hurt. My feelings, that is. I know she's not being intentionally malicious, but on a day that's supposed to have such significance, it hurt that my of-late clingy toddler wanted only to push me away with a scowl on her face.

As hubby was loading her back in the car, I saw another small family with a young boy around Maggie's age. He was cuddling with his mom, sharing kisses and smiles. I cried.

After that, we went out to eat at Bertucci's. Nothing fancy, but the crankies continued. We hoped she would nap afterwards so we put her in the stroller and walked around the shops. No nap. Though at least she wasn't whining and screaming at the time.

Bought a baby names book from Borders because (yes, it's sad, I know) we still haven't discussed names for Sprout. Then went for a nice Sunday ride. Except she screamed most of the time in the car. And threw things. Then wanted them back. Then threw them again. Screamed some more. All the while, hubby keeps telling me, "There's a reason why they call it terrible 2s." That doesn't help, just makes me feel like a bad person for being upset by it.

At one point, I had had enough rejection and actually asked to get out of the car to walk home. I think we were 10 miles from home.

At the gas station 1 mile from home, hubby tried to take Maggie (to walk home) and leave me the car. I think he meant well, but he was angry with me and kept yelling at me when I said they were not leaving me there at the gas station and that I refused to drive home.

We got home, hubby dumped our stuff inside, then immediately left with Maggie to go for a walk. He said it was to give me a break but he had not been talking very nicely to me and I spent the next 20 minutes bawling. I felt abandoned, rejected, hated, unloved. All on Mother's Day. I didn't want to exist.

Hubby returned and we tried to talk it out... all the while, Maggie was destroying the apartment. And screaming. At least I stopped crying. I tried rocking her to sleep, but she wanted nothing to do with it, in spite of how tired she was. Eventually, we just tried putting her to bed early. Only, she used that as an excuse to destroy her bedroom. I retired to our bedroom on the other side of the house because I couldn't listen to her not sleep when she needs it so much.

An hour and a half later, she finally was asleep. And her room was completely ransacked. I opened the door, saw the mess, and left. I can't deal with it now.

Preggo hormones? I don't know. But it was not a fun day. And I'm not looking forward to yet another day of screaming and whining tomorrow. I don't care if it is normal... there's only so much of that a person can take.

I'm skipping Mother's Day next year.