I know I’m supposed to post today about how wonderful it is being a mom. And I’m sure that it’s my civic responsibility to do so. But I have to be honest that sometimes I don’t feel that way. Don’t get me wrong — I love those little nuts, and I honestly wouldn’t give them back, ever, even knowing everything that I know now. But whoever invented Mother’s Day surely was over 50 and did not have toddlers at home. She had forgotten that no matter how you might try, it is impossible to make a toddler be anything other than a completely selfish ego — they just haven’t gotten to appreciation yet. My kids show me love and affection on a daily basis, and I love that. But they also make unreasonable (and somewhat reasonable, just poorly timed) demands all day, every day, and the fact that Turbo wants apple juice and the next episode of Dragon Tales on Netflix right F-ing NOW doesn’t change because it’s my special day. There were no facials or massages, no “you go ahead and take the day off, honey” type things going on here at our house. I spent part of the day trying to get over a very surprising sense of disappointment that came when the Major told me that he thought the odds were good that we’d be living in base housing after this move. I have seen the housing in our next place — it’s not bad… but I have really come to love owning a home. I have poured my heart into this house and have found a love for gardening and home renovation that will not have a place in base housing. Plus we’ll lose two bedrooms, a ton of storage, a home gym and any chance of me ever having an office again. Our neighbors will leave all their crap in their front yards and so will we — cuz that’s just what you do — and we’ll all know intimate details of each others’ lives. Happy Mother’s Day. I’m pouting, and I know it. And this surely isn’t interesting to read… and I’ve gotten way off on a tangent here. This is not about base housing. It’s about me hoping to love Mother’s Day more when these boys are a bit bigger. Because without major orchestration from the Major at these ages (and I love him, but he’s just not that kind of organized unselfish guy), there’s no way it’s going to be any different from any other day. Next year, when we live in base housing, perhaps it will be better.