Warning: This is a bit of a not politically correct rant.
Guess whose mother hates Mother’s Day?
Guess whose mother hates Mother’s Day?
Probably a LOT of Moms, but you guessed it: my kids' mom. I like the IDEA of Mother’s Day, any family-based holiday can be whatever you make it. Besides my own issues between my ears, what is next-level annoying is the American tradition of taking a potentially meaningful situation and over-marketing it into Sharknado of Shame.
For years, I could not even be on the internet on days like Mother’s Day thanks to the barrage of eye-raping pixilated flower bouquets and empty wishes from every single corporation that ever existed just to get their BRAND in front of your face another time. Oh, and also ‘celebrate Moms,’ because nothing says “You deserve the best” like a picture on the internet of lunchmeat rolled into roses.
|Sadly this was found on Pinterest, with instructions. Some PERSON, not named Oscar Meyer, actually wanted to do this and wanted you to know HOW to achieve it.|
Kudos Miracle Whip, I’m sure every person that wanted to have children and still hasn’t for whatever reason, feels all warm and oily inside from seeing your “Happy Mother’s Day” greeting spelled out in mayonnaise.
That is what 'Murican Mother's Day is all about. Spending your hard-earned cash on something Mom doesn't need and probably won't even like because marketing told you that you have to. And everyone else is doing it, so you'll feel bad if you don't. Then Mom has to pretend she likes it, because that's what mothers do.
Literally nothing sums up Motherhood more than Mother's Day morning. Mothers nation-wide pretending to love their crappy breakfast and whatever trinket they receive, so the gift giver(s) don't feel bad.
Don't get me started on the jewelry. I know what the intention is, but to me it feels like:
|"You only have TWO? I have FOUR!"|
Thanks Zales, for adding the names
so everyone knows they're real.
She can wear it every day as a constant reminder these children are the only reason she exists, and the only thing she could ever possibly be interested in ever again."
Barf. All the vomit that was ever projectiled.
I know, most Moms actually love these life accomplishment trinkets. If you do, you're normal. I'm the weird one. I'm guessing I'm not the only one, but you don't have to out yourself to the internet. Let me do that.
Like most other holidays I hate Mother’s Day for the same reason anyone hates any holiday, it makes me feel bad.
Whether it’s true or not, I feel like Mother’s Day is yet another day for normal people to celebrate the normal awesome moments of their normal lives with their normal kids. Meanwhile, I have always just smiled and pretended like I belong in some part of this because I have a child.
I know it's much more than that, but when you’re the mother of an ADHD/ODD child, your Mom moments aren’t the same as other Mothers’ moments. When you’re the single mother of this kind of child, and you’re the only person in this kid’s life who stands up to the challenge, and fights to teach them consequences despite how difficult that really is, you don’t feel proud on Mother’s Day, or any day. You’re just glad everyone survived another day.
You have to think about HOW you survived, even though you don’t want to, because there’s a new game/battle/war starting tomorrow, and somehow you have to survive that day, too. You know you can do it, but you have no idea how.
You also know this is not how you’re supposed to look at parenting, but for the longest time, this was the reality of it for me. I want to say “people like me” or “people like us” but one of the bonus prizes that comes in the package is feeling like you’re the ONLY parent in the entire universe that feels this way, and goes through these feelings.
There’s no way all these happy Moms on Facebook, posting pictures of their fancy breakfasts, prepared by their adoring children, feel the way I feel. Nevermind that Facebook is just the Highlight Reel of life for most people, I know that. Yet every year, seeing the parade of those happy, proud Moms and their offspring-made treasures used to make me feel even worse.
Yes, I have some trinkets and treasures from some years when I wasn’t in a giant war of wills with my son on Mother’s Day. I treasure those. They are hidden so my younger children don’t break them, like they have done with all of my makeup and jewelry. Those things are replaceable. What can’t be replaced are the reminders of the precious moments when my son and I got along, when he took the time to give a token of appreciation, even if his father made him do it because HIS mother told him to.
I have to stop this train of thought here, and hopefully pick up where I left off later. There is much more to say, but I have very little time and these posts are the most difficult for me to write.
However, don't worry for me, like the brave women who smoke Virginia Slims cigarettes, even in public, I've come a long way, baby.
I will say that I’m getting much better. I continue to do the best I can, regardless of how increasingly difficult that becomes every year. And it’s tripled this past year. My son is going through another stage that I don't understand, and like all of his stages, what works with other people doesn't work for him. We're working on it.
The good news: These days I have a partner who supports me emotionally, if not in a parenting sense, at least having emotional support is a huge improvement and gift from the universe. I do have younger children that don’t seem to be blessed with the unique challenge my oldest child was blessed with.
For Mother's/Father's Day, my husband and I have agreed not to shower each other in ridiculous overpriced cheaply manufactured crapola. We let the other sleep in, because that is really all that mothers of small children want any day, to SLEEP. We make each other breakfast "in bed" (usually in couch) and just enjoy what we have. Each other, and these children. These human, flaws-and-all, lovely, funny, exhausting children. That's the gift.
Four years ago and change, he gave me another chance at motherhood and another attempt at a normal life. We've since decided to abandon any attempts at normalcy, and I've literally never been happier. It turns out, all you need to lead a normal-feeling life, is that one person who makes your normal be the norm.
Instead of buying each other gifts we can't really afford, I make him dinner every day whether I like it or not, and he goes to work every day to pay for our food, whether he feels like it or not. I don't need the head-count on a piece of jewelry, I have the gift every day.
Plus that annual bonus of breakfast in couch.
I may even post my runny eggs and crayon drawings on Facebook. Stay tuned.