Mother's Day is "Not My Day" or "Happy You're Not A Mom Day" for me. A few years ago I wrote this post and now I post this essay annually, always with little additions and tweaks. This year has a specific change, as we're nearing one year since Kevin's mom passed.
This is our first Mother's day without her and while I've always disliked this day, her presence always helped. However, this year there is no buying an expensive beautiful Mother's Day card. No buying giant hanging baskets. I had to deep breathe past the greeting card aisle in the grocery store this morning.
Then today there was a gentle knock on the door. The only one who comes to our house is my father-in-law. Sure enough, there he stood with flowers in his hand. "Happy Day" he said "Because I know I can't say Happy Mother's Day" I made a joke so I didn't cry in front of him then lost it when he left. He makes us crazy but he really is the sweetest man.
On the other side, I spent nearly $100 to not have to go to my mother's this weekend. Kevin insisted that I at least send her flowers, which is a good solution for this particular situation.
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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, dried her hands then turned to hug me tight. Like a mom would.
My paternal grandma helped while she was alive. She died when I was six, 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. Equipping me with wedding shower gifts and handwritten advice when I married the wrong man at nineteen, 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 all summer homes. The mom in one family seemed quite strange to me; she did yoga and meditated and was always calm. 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 has since passed and 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 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-one years and with Kevin nearly thirty-four. My mother-in-law didn't understand me at first, having been raised by the aforementioned wolves. (Sidenote: before she died, 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. A normal mom.
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 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.
And I sure miss my mother-in-law
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| She's smiling at Kevin, holding our card. The last Mother's Day that she had |
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