|Posted by Sara Moore on 10 May, 2015 at 8:10|
Now if you could hear the sarcasm lacing the title "Mother's Day" you would know right away this isn't going to be a warm and fuzzy post about how the joys of motherhood are all wrapped up into this one day. And no, breakfast was not served to me in bed this morning. I actually had to toast my son's waffles (home made pumpkin spice ones I made and had in the freezer) and hand it to him while he sat on the couch watching mind numbing tv. After I type this, I'm driving him to a store to buy sandals because he cut his foot while we were fishing yesterday. We went twice. Once in the morning, once in the evening until the black flies chased us out. I baited all the hooks with live worms and took off the 9 fish he caught. They were little and luckily they were easy to release. So we're going fishing after buying sandals, and before I take him to baseball practice at 4pm.
I'm reading posts on facebook about how some of my mom friends have been served breakfast in bed. And how they get flowers or mimosas, and are really honored for their momness. My son has known two houses: Moms and dads, since he was 18 months old. He has never seen me get doted on, and I would say the only huge failure in the divorce was not really teaching him to resepct all that I (and we) do for him. There's a sense of entitlement. And it drives me fucking nuts. I can compare it to getting fat. You start with a pound here or there, which goes unnoticed. And then all of a sudden you're up 12 pounds and you wonder how the hell that happened? Of course, being mostly single since the divorce I haven't really given myself the benefit of having a person in the mix that would dote on me and teach him how to step up and be more helpful.
I know that Z is a loving child. He is the most bizarre and awesome kid I know, and I'm so psyched to be his mom. This morning I told him that one of my work trips was postponed because the woman I was going with has to stay with her father, who is dying. Know what he said? "I'm sorry. I'm really sad for her." From a nine year old. The same nine year old who didn't like what I proposed for dinner and when I threw my hands up and forfeited parenting for the night he actually said "Shut up." So at 7:18pm I was showered and in bed while he tried to figure out how to toast a bagel and feed himself. He burned his finger in the process and I looked at it, told him he was going to live, and rolled over and fell asleep. It just didn't quite seem fair that this was how my mothers day weekend was going.
And then, you can add on that my mother is dead. It'll be 15 years June 5th. I missed out on telling her I was pregnant, seeing her hold her grandson for the first time, and to call her to tell her how much I miss and love her. Normally I'm ok with her being gone, but tears are streaming down my cheeks as I write this I guess today I'm not. Of couse, if she hadn't died when and how she did I'd still probably be working at some corporate job I hated and in an unsatisfying marriage. So I get it. But today it just hurts.
So. Do I feel any better now that I've gotten this out? A little. Do I hope that Z magically "gets" that Mother's day should be every day? Yup. And when I hit post and get up to tell him we're going to get him some sandals and more worms, will he remember to bring his plate to the sink? Doubtful. Do I love him more than anything? Yes. Undoubtedly. Will I bait his hooks today with wiggly worms? Yes. Will I sneak hugs every chance because I know someday he'll be too cool? Absolutely. Will I get over last nights hellish ending? Yes. But that may take a second cup of coffee and a walk.
Oh my god. A mother's day mircale just happened!!!!
Zachary just walked into the kitchen, put his plate in the sink and got himself some popcorn. He didn't ask me to get it for him, he happily reminded me that the huge large mouth bass are especially hungry on mohters day and that we really do need to take a picture of us with it when he catches it. Maybe I'm not doing so bad after all.