Mother’s Day 2012
This morning, my kids decided to make me breakfast for
Mother’s Day. My daughter prepared a bowl of oatmeal (at least I think that’s
what it was) and my son handed me a slice of bread. They stood there staring at
me with eager eyes waiting for me to finish the meal they prepared in my honor.
I ate every bite and smiled and praised them for doing such a great job.
I wasn’t even hungry.
I just wanted some time to think in peace this morning.
I found the gesture ironic that, much like every day, I am
forced to swallow something I don’t want or like for the sake of keeping my
kids happy. Definitive motherhood.
Shortly after breakfast, my mother came by to give me a
bouquet of dead flowers. I had to excuse myself after my celebratory breakfast
and lovely gift to cry in peace.
Oatmeal. A slice of bread. Dead flowers. Happy Mother’s Day.
Are you starting to see the picture that I am painting for
you?
Ruminating...
I thought of my upbringing in a dysfunctional, broken family
and tried to isolate the reasons why approaching holidays have filled me with
dread and feelings of inadequacy for most of my life.
This is the part where I stop talking about myself. This is
the part where I start talking about the big picture.
Holidays can unearth repressed emotions within some people.
Feigning enthusiasm and pleasure for the sake of others is probably the most
difficult part of celebrating holidays.
I'd like to take a moment to say it's okay if you're *not
feeling* Mother's Day or any other holiday for that matter. Not everyone can
uphold the standard of conventional living implied by greeting card marketing
strategies. Not all of us are perfect. Most of us do not have perfectly
constructed families and
perfect lives.
For those of us who have lost mothers and grandmothers and
find this day unbearable, Fuck Mother’s Day.
For those of us who are dealing with broken homes (due to
divorce or poor choices in choosing a mate) and feeling the weight of this
day and not sure why, Fuck Mother’s Day.
For those of us who have buried children, Fuck Mother’s Day.
For those of us who have endured an abusive or absentee
mother, Fuck Mother’s Day.
For those of us that feel like our kids are more burdensome
than we’d ever care to admit to ourselves, let alone out loud, Fuck Mother’s
Day.
For all of those picture perfect families walking around
with smiles and honoring their matriarch on this day…Happy Mother’s Day.
For those that can’t conceive and see Mother’s Day as a
demarcation of ultimate failure as a woman, Fuck Mother’s Day.
Fuck Mother’s Day.
Instead, reflect on your life and how the role of motherhood
has affected you as a mother, as a child, as a spouse, as a woman or as a man.
Whatever. If the feelings evoked are painful, don’t be afraid to cry or scream
or punch a hole through the wall.
I’m not sure how to end this. Besides, my kids are going to
eventually find me. Did I mention that I had to hide behind my bed to write
this? No? Well, I am… Forgive the typos in advance. I hope my words make sense.
Time to fake it 'til I make it. xoxo
Light and Love, yall. Everything is going to be alright.
