Further Adventures in Motherhood

Another Mother’s Day has come and gone — my 55th, and it was awright.

I received the obligatory texts from the usual suspects — Granddaughter, who is celebrating her 1st Mother’s Day; Twin 1, whose pain I could feel at this being Mother’s Day with undoubtedly no well wishes from her own brood because they’re all mad at her for one reason or another. Even Red Light took a moment out of celebrating with her own son to text me a Happy Mother’s Day.

Then, shortly after the text, Red Light called to tell me that the two alcoholic sons of the resident living in my building, but around the corner, were out front of the property, in a fist fight with each other.

Did you get the part where I said Red Light was out celebrating with her own son when she first texted and now was calling?

She was miles away at the Ontario Mills Mall, having breakfast and planning on a movie with her son, but knew of a fight in progress here.

Us old people have the best grapevine.

I had not yet bathed nor dressed, so I couldn’t go outside to see the fight, but how embarrassing for the resident whose husband passed away last year, and now is subjected to her sons visiting on Mother’s Day, humiliating her in front of her neighbors with a drunken brawl.

At least my family settles our differences peacefully, by keeping away from each other. LOL.

Twin 2 got a jump on Mother's Day and texted yesterday, with something that broke through my hard exterior and brought me to tears — which I’ll share with you end of this post so as to not turn you into a puddle as it did me. All in all, it was a satisfying Mother’s Day for me.

Even though she didn’t say so in her text, I know the day was difficult for Twin 1.

She made a lot of mistakes in her role as a mom — birthed more children than the law should allow, became overwhelmed, checked out in ways that emotionally damaged her children.

To her credit, however, she woke up, owned up to and apologized to the kids over and over and over and over for her previously poor choices, has tried to make amends with little success because some of her brood have grown up to be hateful, selfish adults that think the world and their mom owes them a living.

They've put a price tag on forgiving, forgetting, starting from now. That price tag being fund their lifestyle so they don’t have to work, pay their bills, their rent, put gas in their car or, after crashing two other cars, let me use your car.

Long story short, Twin 1 is pretty much done dealing with being racked over the coals by guilt, regret, her kids, has retreated into herself and working at assuaging that guilt/regret by devoting her time and energy to the work she does for the unhoused on skid row — do for others that which she failed to do in the past for her own.

It’s not easy for her though.

So, anyway, I seriously doubt any one of her brood texted her a Happy Mother’ Day. Not even granddaughter, who recently had a dispute with her mom and unwisely stuck a dagger in her heart with — stay away from me and the grandbaby.

Say goodbye to a Thanksgiving Family get-together this year, because we were barely hanging on as a unit when Twin 2 was pushed away, for reasons I don't understand as she stepped up and did so much for the kids when their mom had checked out, was in her prodigal experience. Now without either of my girls, it can't be much of a family or a get-together.

It is what it is.

My position on all this is that I understand it’s hard to forgive and forget, but there are far worse crimes a mom can make beyond checking out and being self-involved.

I wasn’t too happy with the mom life gave me either, but I never sassed or disrespected her. I managed to get through the early years, later lived my own adult life with no expectations from her and, where she failed as a mother she more than made up for as a grandmother to my girls.

In all honesty, I don’t think I’d be the person I am today had she not been my mom, because I learned from her what NOT to do as a mom, as a friend, as a person. Not to mention, the superpowers I developed as a result of her being my mom that got me through, and continues to get me through, the hard times — adaptability, self-reliance, listening to the spirit within rather than what she and the world had to say.

There’s a reason for everything.

Twin 1's brood are all adults now, fully capable of providing and accepting responsibility for themselves, rather than still be expecting mommy to take care of them, pay for past mistakes by enabling them now, resenting her for not doing so.

For many years, I felt misunderstood, misjudged, could do nothing right insofar as my own girls were concerned. They too had unreasonable expectations as to how I, as a mother should be and do; and, when the girls made dubious choices, blame was projected onto me when things didn’t work out.

It’s just in the last few years when the blinders fell off their eyes and they’ve been able to understand and appreciate how I'd put them first, wanted the best for them, continued to be there for them with an assist when needed. So even though Twin 1's brood didn't get the best start, a day may come when they can see value in what they've experienced with her and can appreciate the rough start.

So, anyway, Twin 2's message to me for Mother's Day was …………… "With Mother's Day coming up I've been waxing nostalgic. Thinking of all the things you unconsciously gave me. You used to listen to this radio program. The start of it was the Gordon McRae opening song from Oklahoma. 'Oh what a beautiful morning. Oh what a beautiful day. I've got a beautiful feeling everything's going my way'. I wake up often with that on my heart. Our home always smelled like fresh coffee. You made your breakfast every morning and would eat in the yellow Volkswagen, or Brown Babe. A boiled egg and toast. Always suited and booted. On the weekends you'd paint our nails and we'd go somewhere, but after you cleaned the house. If a gift was involved you gave thee best and most thoughtful gift. You were always in school. Trying to improve yourself or earning potential. I loved when we went to work with you. I was so proud. I often channel how you presented professionally. You enjoyed life. Men, parties, pot, vacations. But you never neglected us. You were present. You showed me what responsibility looked like. Don't ever think that you failed somehow. You did the best you could with what you had. I paid attention. You grew up with a narcissistic parent that gave you too much responsibility over your siblings. Nana was wonderful to us, but I saw her avoidance with her kids. No hugs. No kisses. No affection. A codependent relationship with her boys. But she gave all she had as well. You did what you had to do to escape that. I was remembering how you raised us to be liberal in our thinking. Accepting of all things different. You gave us choices religiously. I cherish the memories of every single church we attended. I learned something. If I don't tell you enough, I love you with all of my heart. I'm grateful to be your daughter. In fact honored. I love who I am because of you."

In my defense, that reference to "Men, parties, pot" ... it was the 70's for god's sake, and I was the gay divorcee.

Still am, but minus the men, parties, and that other thing.