The morning is always a unclear time, before the coffee kicks in and the brain starts to function I am always confused. What will the day bring, what will we do, how often will I call my husband at work? I wake and am greeted by three black cats, one whom presently has his paw in my mouth, a moaning, drooling husband and a child who has shed his diaper and is going commando around the house. Did I really think it was going to be like Doris Day? I think I did. Where are the singing birds? Why isn’t my hair and make-up perfectly done? Plastic scrambled eggs and a house that shows no evidence of a family ever having been there. No, not for me. Runny scrambled eggs, burnt toast, hungry cats, confused husband and my son’s naked butt.
The Passing of Mothers’ Day
Another Mothers Day come and gone; it makes me think about this flower giving, obligating and false promise making “holiday”. I have been a mother for three years and every time mother’s day comes around I feel bad that I might not have been the “best” mother all year and results in me cleaning the house from top to bottom, agonizing over my mother’s gift for the occasion and fighting with my husband about the day itself. After sweating all day doing dishes, putting on make up for my hubby and telling my son I love him every six seconds I ask myself; what really is this day of mother worshiping?
I think about my mother.
This day is a false and ignorant means to get money and inspire people to spend it.
But I think of my mother anyway; hence have I “sold out” to the masses of holiday frenzy?
I have. I bought her roses.
But I thought about her, wondering what gift could I give this woman? Well knowing my mom, only my happiness in life would do to please her. That I am still having trouble with so what to I get this woman? A promise? A thought? Roses that will die?
My mother will never know how much I love her and the moments I remember about our interactions that I hold precious to my heart. She may never know that I still have bad dreams and wake up wanting a hug. There is so much my mother will never know about my complete and utter love and respect for her.
My mother may never know how much I love her so I sent her beautiful yellow, peach and orange colored roses in a lovely square vase with a balloon from her grandchild stating; I Love You Grandma and a silly card. I had to choose the roses. I over thought a holiday that can never say how much I love her.
I guess that this is what mother’s day is about.
I simply could not get my mom off of my mind.