There will only be one Mother’s Day for the duration of the year+ in which I will be documenting my life in this blog, so I thought, “Why the hell shouldn’t I have a post devoted to Mother’s Day?” To which I answered “Why are you talking to yourself? You’re not fifty yet?” and that conversation continued for a while until first me decided that second me was a real asshole and that I wouldn’t entertain me anymore. In other words, I won, so here’s the post:
It’s Mother’s Day! Happy Mother’s Day to the mom readers out there!! This is not a mom blog! This is a MILF blog with the occasional mom content! I’m yelling! I’ve had wine! Yay, Mother’s Day!!!
My relationship with my own mother has always been rather odd. June is who she is and I am who I am and for the most part we accept one another for the oddities that society sees us as. She was never really “girlie,” hence, why I’m the chick you want on your trivia team when a sports question comes up. She tells little white lies… ALL… THE… TIME… hence, why I will never and could never sit down at a poker table... “I’ve got a flush! I do! ME! I’m going to beat your hand!!! What do you have, sir? Well, that wasn’t very polite now, was it? GO FUCK YOURSELF. I’VE GOT A FLUSH!!!” And, she is not and never will be a conversationalist, hence, why this blog exists and everything I have ever voiced before this blog existed. I am very unlike my mother in many, many ways, and yet very much like her in more ways than I care to admit. But what I do take away from my mother that I consider to be good, and to fall into the “not fail” category are the following things:
- Loyalty: My mother has been with my deadbeat father through shit that would make your eyes bleed. For forty-two years she has put up with more crap than your local high school’s janitor. Oh, sorry, I mean your local high school’s “Facilities Maintenance Engineer” (shout out to the liberals in the hiz-ouse!) The woman deserves sainthood and I shall rally for it on the steps of St. Peter’s when her final days are over.
- Patience: Well, actually, I like to think that I get this from her but to be frank, I’m not patient in the least, so lets just say that she is and that this is a wonderful thing for her to be and move on, shall we? Am I acting jealous because my mother is patient and I’m not? Absolutely. But it’s my fucking blog, now, isn’t it? My game. My toys. My house. My blog. And I’ll cry if I want to. Cry if I want to. Cry if I want to. You would cry too if it happened to you (bum, ba-dum bum.)
- Toughness: So obvious. Next.
- Positivity: Believe it or not, I’m more positive than I am negative, and that largely comes from my mother’s optimism. I often describe her outlook as one of “puppy dogs, rainbows, and lollipops” which is likely why she’ll live to be a hundred and nine and I will die last Tuesday. But seriously, Mom’s general outlook on life after all that she has lived through drives me to stay positive, because I know in my heart that someone out there has it way worse than I do, and that makes me happy… er, I mean, scratch that. How exactly do I say this without sounding like a douche? Um… things could always be worse? Yes. There ya go. Less douchie, by far.
- Work Ethic: I saved the best for last on this list. My mother’s work ethic is unlike any woman’s I have ever known or ever seen. At 69, she is still working her fingers to the bone to make ends meet and provide for her husband (insert cringe here.) She is up at 4:00 am every day to get ready for her work day and doesn’t stop until her head hits the pillow. She is driven, determined, spirited and genuinely enjoys her job, and oddly, I believe, her life. I like to think that I work the way that she does, but I’m sure she is still teaching me a thing or two about acceptance, determination and overall happiness.
In closing, with regard to my own mother on this Mother’s Day, I will say that I was always proud to be her daughter, no matter what our differences, because when the shit hit the fan, despite our odd relationship, she was, in a nutshell, there. And when the day comes that my daughter writes her own blog documenting her mental anguish toward me and how I made fun of her chubby rolls on Facebook to my friends, or her bitchiness, or her hair color, or general bad attitude towards anything that was not cake related, that she will make a list like the one I have above that will allow not just her readers, but also her, to look at both the positives and negatives of me – her mother – and that she will close her post out the way that I am right now by saying at the very least… “My mother loved me, and when I needed her, she was there…”
So, Mom, today and every day, I love you. And thank you. Thank you for being there when I needed you most. And thank you for not abandoning me when I probably deserved to be abandoned. Thanks, Ma. I mean it. I love you and I won’t just love you for the rest of your life; I will love you for the rest of mine.
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