So, it's 3:49 pm. I just got home from a double header soccer game for my youngest. I left the house at 8:45 am, barely, after a late night out (wicked fun!) and running around like a crazy person this morning to get everything organized for half the day on a soccer field. He gave me a big hug when he got up and wished me a happy mother's day. He made me a card and taped a dollar in it. "For chocolate, mom!" Love that kid... We stopped for lunch on the way home because he was starving and, well, it's mother's day, so I don't cook. I got a red carnation from the Chili's! How nice. He scored a goal today and his team clinched the championship of their division today. The sun even came out. There were heart clouds, fleeting, but there!
I came home to the house in the same holy mess it was left in since yesterday. Granted, my husband took my eldest son to his soccer game this morning, but he had a later start. They were both still in bed when I left. I had high hopes that I'd arrive home to a clean kitchen at the very least. Nope. Not even close. I thought, perhaps, the bed would be made, as it usually is. Nope. Clearly, he got up in barely enough time to get his ass out the door with my son at 11:30 for his game. No forethought to what might be a nice treat for me when I returned. Apparently, previous discussions about these things were forgotten. *sigh*
Part of me is pissed. It's flipping Mother's day. Do my GD housework for me! Do what makes ME happy, even it if inconveniences you. Get out of bed early for me. It's not about how tired you are. I was tired, too. But I'm mom. I have no choice. I can't sleep until the last minute and waltz out the door. No one offered to take the early soccer shift for me today. This family would cease to function if it were not for me. Wish me a happy mother's day before I walk out the door or send me a text, email or post it on Facebook. Acknowledge the day to me. No, I'm not HIS mother, but part of his job as step-father is making sure "my" day is about me and not about him or them. Right?
I know he will do it eventually. I know he intends to do all of those things. He just forgets that it means more to me to do it on my timetable instead of his. I just really didn't want to come home to it not yet done. It only adds stress to an already difficult day.
Ok. Rant over. There. See. I'm not all sweet and earthy crunchy lovey all the time. I do have a bitchy human side, too. :-)
So, now that my rant is over, I stop and think. I'm near tears. Why? What is my frustration and anger really about? I know better than to have the expectations I did. It only sets me up for disappointment. It's not his fault for not thinking of me, my wants and needs even if only for this day. Or even if it is, the truth is it's my fault for not spelling out what I wanted or needed and when. For having the expectation he'd 'get it' and remember it. It's a common tale. I have no one to blame but myself. Knowing he WILL do those things at some point today makes me feel badly that I allow myself to get upset about it not being done my way in the first place. He's so good to me and the boys, so thoughtful and loving, what right do I have to complain?
Of course, it runs deeper than the fact my house was not cleaned when I return. It's mother's day. A harsh and sharp reminder that I failed motherhood 101. I failed to keep all of my healthy children alive. It's grief, pure and simple. Manifesting as irritation and frustration at stupid little things. Meghan is dead. You all know the story. You all know the guilt I carry with me and don't for a second bother to tell me I shouldn't feel the way I do. I do. It's my burden to bear. I'm simply sharing how I feel. I'm not the only one. Any mother who has lost their child will likely tell you they feel the same way.
On a day when mothers everywhere look forward to being pampered, thanked and acknowledged for the hard work of mothering, a day when they spend the day with their children, the stark absence of one of my children in my life on this particular day makes the pain of the fact Meghan is not here with me all the more sharp. It's like salt in the wound. A trigger day that you might not expect would be a trigger day.
Add to it the fact I'm thinking of the fact my mother and aunt and uncle are celebrating their first mother's day without their mother, who died just a week ago. It hits home with the realization someday my mother, too, will be gone. That I can't celebrate with her either, in person, because they live in Florida. We chatted this morning though, before I left for soccer.
I spent all morning being 'on' for my son, Meg's twin, at his soccer game. He played great. His team played great. I enjoyed hanging out with the other soccer moms and dads. They know about Meghan, but they have no idea the pain I was in, the tears I held back, the nerve all those little girls hit for me today. The fact she should have been there, too. It's just...it hurts.
I'm now home. Exhausted and fighting tears. I just want to crawl into a hole and sulk. I want to be alone. I don't want to deal with the mundane things of the day. The pain of her loss hits hard now. It was an undercurrent all day, a subconscious presence. Now, I sit with the silence of her absence. I miss her. Perhaps a bit more than most other days. On a day when I'm supposed to be celebrated by ALL my children, there is one huge void. I long to hear her voice. Stroke her silky hair. Snuggle up and read a book. Dance and be silly. Watch her and her brothers do whatever they might be doing if she were still here. I am gazing out my window at the cherry tree losing it's blossoms in the wind. She would have loved it. Her brother is out there loving watching the petals fall. He loves that tree. It reminds him of her.
Soon my eldest and my husband, his step-father, will be home from his soccer game. He will clean the kitchen. He will make the bed. He will rally the children. He will love me and acknowledge the pain of my loss. We will go out for dinner.
It's a double-edged sword. I want to go. I don't want to go. I will go and I'm sure I will enjoy it. I will feel guilty for all I said earlier in the post, and then again, I won't.
I am a bereaved mom. All I want on mother's day is what any mother wants. To be appreciated for all that she is and all that she does. To spend the day with her children making it all about her. I don't ever get to have that. Ever. Because I no longer have all of my children with me on this earth. Nothing will ever change that. Of course I love my boys, even the one who doesn't acknowledge mother's day without serious prompting and the threat of not feeding him. It's just not the same. It's not what I want. It's not what I imagined Mother's Day would ever be. Yet it is what Mother's day is and always will be for me.
~ 4 hours later~
My writing was interrupted by the return of my eldest and my husband. As I predicted, my husband showered me with love. He acknowledged the day is difficult for me. He cleaned the kitchen and did the laundry. He gave me a music CD of one of my favorite artists, Michael Buble (he sings only to and for me, you know). :-) He arranged to take us out for dinner. My eldest made me a card in his silly way with a hand made gift certificate. It made me laugh. We went out for dinner. We had fun. We laughed. We ate. There may have been a chocolate martini. There will be cake for breakfast tomorrow.
I came home and sat in the hot tub. Alone! I am now, still exhausted, still missing Meghan, but grateful for my boys and my husband. They make the pain of this day much easier to bear. They love me. They really do. Heaven knows I love them all the way to the end of the Universe and back.
Sometimes it's not just about what you've lost. It's about what you have, what you have learned, and what you have gained from that loss. This day will never be easy. It will never hold the joy it fully should for me, but I am still a mommy to three. And hey, how many people get to mother a spirit daughter and her two earth bound crazy brothers? :-)
|Talk about having your hands full!|
|One version of the Mommy gym|
|Another, more fun version of the mommy gym|