This day is "Not My Day" or "Happy You're Not A Mom Day" for me. A few years ago I wrote this post. I've edited/added a bit to reflect the now.
Last year's update:
I phoned my mom last night about Mother's Day. We were going to go out this morning before my family was visiting to avoid that Whole Thing. Welp, my mom had/has Covid. She tested positive "on Easter" Well, first she said Christmas then corrected herself so there's that whole thing. She says she's fine, it was just like a cold but she still sounded snuffly.
And, oh, thanks, family members, for letting me know. btw. You're *super*. My mom even said "I didn't know no one told you." "Yeah, that's how it is now, mom" I wanted to say, but I didn't.
Instead, I will go down during the week to see her for a little while. She said that it was fine and that today is "Just another Day" so that will give you insight to the dynamic as well.
So, the pandemic has given me distance from unhealthy family dynamics and for that I am strangely grateful.
We bought Kevin's mom a flower arrangement because she can't care for her flowers anymore and that is sad. However, on a happier note: Kevin chose the card and it's nearly exactly the same as her birthday card that we gave her eleven days ago. We're pretty sure that she won't notice and because we're horrible children, we laughed about it.
This year's update:
My mom is currently on speaker phone. I phoned her to say that we weren't coming down for the "holiday". Before I could say anything, she said "It's just another day, you don't have to come down" which made me eyeroll. I wasn't going down there anyway, I had just told her we were at the day-by-day point of our hospice adventure. Also, I looked it up: 96 days since we last spoke and it was again me that made the call. After polite/nosy update about my mother-in-law, the conversation flipped to all about her. So, the usual.
For what I now call my Other Mom, we met with hospice yesterday. We are near the end now, but like, for real. She went semi-conscious last week, for the entire week. We thought the process had started and was feeling a little relieved/guilty. Then on Monday, she woke up like nothing was wrong and stayed that way for two days. Now we're back to the semi-conscious state. We are to now keep her sedated as much as we can and to let the natural process do its thing. So, not a happy Mother's Day this year in that aspect.
With that unhappy update, the annual repost for this particular day:
Having been raised by wolves, as I've regularly described my childhood, other women stepped up to make sure that I was parented when my parents couldn't or didn't know any better.
As a baby/toddler, it was my mom's best friend. As I was a trauma birth, she was the one who cared for me the first months of my life. In fact, she made sure I was taken care of the first part of my young life. She sees me as the daughter she never had.
Even as an adult, she had that presence. I remember arriving at a family function years ago and it had been a crap day. I was spewing all the reasons why I was late and it was an awful day and in mid-sentence she stopped what she was doing, turned and hugged me tight. Like a mom would.
My paternal grandma helped while she was alive. She died when I was five, but I still remember her babysitting and making sure that I was spoiled and had what I needed: ceramic figurines from the tea box, scrapbooks, napoleon (neopolitan) ice cream, and affection.
During grade school, my mom became a volunteer firefighter with a group of stay-at-home moms. Those women also stepped up and made sure I was okay over the years, as well. Equipping me with wedding shower gifts and handwritten advice when I married the wrong man, with kind of an unspoken understanding about the decision I was making. I didn't understand it then but I've since realized their support.
Where we lived when I was a child, the houses around us were summer homes. The mom in one family was such a hippie; she did yoga and meditated and seemed quite strange to me. She was a gentle mom and I liked her very much, even though she was a mom the likes of which I had never seen. She passed when Kevin had Covid so I wasn't able to attend her memorial. It broke my heart a little. The beautiful obituary that my friend wrote for her described her as Soft. As in everything about her was soft and gentle. It clarified why she was an important presence when I was young: she was soft when everyone around me was hard.
My grade/middle school best friend's mom was also just a quiet presence. They were poor, I mean, really poor and she was overwhelmed with all these kids and the things that came with that. I didn't realize it then but I do understand now. But I just became another one of her kids, like it was no problem at all.
Mostly I remember my high school best friend's moms. At sixteen/seventeen, I was working, going to school, paying bills, and driving. I was an adult mostly but I still felt their watchful eyes on me. They made sure I got home, school, or to work on time, had what I needed, fed me, answered my questions. Parented me when I needed it.
As of next week, I will be married thirty-years. We lived in sin for three years prior so it's been a long time that we've been a family. My mother-in-law didn't understand me at first, having been raised by the aforementioned wolves. (Sidenote: recently she said wolves are good mothers so I had to think of another animal) In turn, I didn't recognize how she was in life was, indeed, normal.
Now, perhaps in some respects too late, I've realized the presence she has had in my life. The mediator, the dinners she made, the flowers she gave when she "bought too many" or as a thank you. The mom she was to Kevin. Yes, she made me want to drink on many, many occasions but from what I've read (joking) That's What Mother's Do. I just didn't recognize it at the time.
So, today I'm giving a shout out to those moms who take care of kids who aren't theirs. Not just the foster moms or the step moms. The moms who just take in the friends of your kids without a thought. You might not think they notice but they do. You may think it's nothing or just a little thing that doesn't matter. But it's not.
I appreciate every meal, every hug, every correction, every thing they did to step up and fill the gaps. Even now.
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