My spouse and I have two children: an eight-month-old girl and a six-year-old boy. For two weeks before Mother’s Day, he kept assuring me he had a complete weekend planned for me. This was rare, but in the past, I’ve felt wounded and unappreciated when he didn’t do anything for me on Mother’s Day, despite the fact that I always did everything for him on Father’s Day.

So I felt he finally understood what I was saying and was going to make this year memorable. All I wanted was a massage, but he kept stating that it “wasn’t enough”. I automatically assumed he had gone above and above this time.Anyway, Friday arrived, and suddenly a slew of individuals started showing up to our house. My husband had invited 10 to 15 individuals, but I only knew two of them.

He referred to it as the “Mother’s Day bonfire”. Sure, we had a fire, but I spent the entire evening chasing after the kids, including my 6-year-old, while carrying the infant, and also monitoring someone else’s two children because they weren’t paying attention to them. No one even spoke to me. The only time I was noticed was at the conclusion of the night, when my husband’s friend announced that he was taking him four-wheeling.

I put my foot down and told my hubby he was not going anywhere. I was quite furious by this time since this was going to be my promised special weekend, but instead I ended up babysitting other people’s kids, cleaning up the mess—no one even spoke to me—and now he’s planning to leave.

The next morning, I opened up about how hurt I was. He apologized, saying he had not been thinking clearly. Okay, fine. I received it. Saturday was a bit of a wash because he spent half of it sleeping. Yesterday, his manager called him at 6 a.m. and asked him to come in because they were understaffed. He agreed, and I couldn’t help but voice my disappointment: “But it’s Mother’s Day.”

It was his reply: “I know, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity for extra hours.” I got his point, so I brushed it off. He finally arrived home about 5 p.m. and began getting the kids dressed and ready to go out, so I thought, “Great, we’re finally going to do something special.” We ended up going for a stroll (which I enjoy), but after five minutes, he began complaining about the black flies (which weren’t even that bad) and turned us back.

Once again, I felt let down. When we finally arrived home, he sat down on the couch and casually stated, “Oh, your gift is out in the truck.” I went downstairs and there it was: a $5 storage container for sugar or flour. I admire practical things like that, but I was saddened by that point. I begged him if he could at least give me a massage, and he said, “I’m sorry, babe, I’m just so tired,” before falling asleep about 8 p.m. He normally stays up till midnight or 1 a.m. There I sat, tears flowing down my cheeks.

I ended up throwing away the three items I had already gotten him for Father’s Day. They were personalized products that had cost me a lot of money, but I didn’t mind anymore. This morning, he discovered them in the garbage, smeared in food, and asked me why. I told him they were Father’s Day gifts and then left it at that. Now he’s furious, saying he “tried” to make my weekend special and is disappointed that I tossed away his gifts because things didn’t go as planned.