Mother’s Day

My mother and I have a good relationship. It’s not perfect, but it works for us. I actually see her four or five times a year, usually I just pop in at her place, some times at a family gathering like Christmas or Easter.  I used to talk to her on the phone frequently, but those calls have became less and less frequent as the years have gone on. I used to call her daily when I was in college and shortly thereafter, two or three times a week for years after that, about once a week a few years ago, to now maybe once a month. It’s not that I love my mother any less, I just find now that I have less and less need to talk to her. I guess it took 37 years for me to finally be an adult.

Our dynamic began to change about a decade ago when I married my husband. He likes my mom, don’t misunderstand, but he always found it weird that I would call her so often. Without realizing it, he kind of called bullshit on me. I would invent reasons to call her. I’d call her to ask for a recipe, or how some relative was doing, or even to get gossip on someone we both knew (she’s a bit of a gossip and I get that from her). My husband didn’t actually call me out, in those exact words, but I’d call her to ask something then he’d say “why didn’t you just ask me? I could have told you that.” And I got the point. I was not really using the resources at hand, I was creating a reason to talk to my mom as a comfort blanket, when (as I was now a married adult) I should have been talking to my husband.

Our dynamic really took its final downward spiral a few years ago when my started dating (and later married) her second husband. I don’t get along with him (I don’t think he or she reads my blog, but stay with me if you do, I’m making a point here). He’s loud, always right (even when he isn’t), and opinionated.  Exactly like me. But he’s a republican, conservative, and hates democrats. Exactly the opposite of me. So you can see why we don’t get along. When I do visit my mom, I swallow a lot of words and exude shitloads of patience to be in the same room. But he is good to my mom, he loves her and I know he does by the way he treats and shows her, so for that I totally respect him. I just won’t talk politics with him. 😁

Growing up, my mom made a lot of sacrifices. Her and my dad got married about six months before I was born, and they were married until I was in my thirties.  She worked until I was two, then she was a full time mom and housewife. When I was four, she had my brother. When I was six, she had the other brother. Being at home all day with three boys couldn’t have been easy. Hell, my youngest brother alone would have driven me to drink. He was a firecracker. When I was in sixth grade, when the youngest was in school finally, she went back to work. She carried on with a full time job, three kids, a husband, and all the housework. But I rarely remember her bitching about it. She worked at a factory for years, then she went back to school to move up in the company. She didn’t actually get the promotion she wanted, but found a better job in her field. She worked there until the company closed. By then she had left my dad, and was living in her own place.

She’s dealt with a gay son (she’s supportive, though she didn’t always like my dating choices), kids in jail, grandkids, a divorce, parents dying, siblings dying, family arguments, being strapped on cash, losing her job, medical issues (her own and those of her kids), and estranged family members. She’s been a rock through it all with little to no thanks. 

So, thanks to my mom! Thanks for putting up with me (us), thanks for always being there, thanks for doing without to provide for your kids, thanks for being the person you are. Thanks for all you did, all you do, and all you will do. You are loved.



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