The Story of the Ungrateful Daughter

A few months ago, my mother was bargain shopping and happened upon a bunch of cheap maternity shirts. She called and asked if she should get them for me. I said sure, thinking that I'd be pregnant again soon and it would be nice to have a few new things.

Well, as the time has passed and things have been harder with getting pregnant, my mom has been kind enough to spare me getting shirts in the mail that just smear in my face what I want and don't have. She mentioned when we were on vacation that she needed to dig them out and send them to me.

Two days ago I got a box from her. Assuming it was the shirts, and not wanting to deal with the drama that would come from what was certainly inside, I didn't open it. I set it aside with the thought that I would open it when I felt like I had the energy.

Today, I was sitting in my office staring at the box and decided I would go ahead and open it... It wasn't the dreaded shirts. It was a cozy quilt (I have a collection, I love them) that she made for me with a very sweet note that only a mom could write. It of course made me cry because she is always so kind and thoughtful.

Why in the world would I have thought she would be so insensitive? I feel like such a jerk. Here this lovely thing that she made just for me sat in the box for two days enduring my dirty looks because I underestimated my mother.

Next time, I'm just going to open the damn box.