I understand the concept, but I’ve never really been a fan of it anyway. Maybe it has something to do with my horrible gift giving skills. When I was younger, my brother and I would make my mom cards at school, then that got old just as fast as we did, so it was off to the store to find something we thought she would like.
And she was so gracious about all of the bogus gifts that she received: the endless measuring cups, the white Jesus picture, the scarves and sweaters and Jean Nate after body splash that I always remember seeing in the bathroom but I didn’t really know if she liked it or not. She never said anything or complained about it though. As long as she got a gift she was good. I just never felt like I gave her what I feel like she deserves, but she never made requests. Now, I just send her roses with a card and she loves that as well. I still don’t think it’s equivalent to the almost four decades of support that she has given me but… I don’t know. Like I said, my gift giving sucks.
Plus, a flower delivery was simple, yet appropriate for me this year, since I’m still not firing on all cylinders.
Mother’s Day is the day set aside by the federal government to honor the women that gave all of us life. As a mother, I have charged myself with the task of taking care of my children physically, emotionally and spiritually from the time that their heart starts beating until the time that mine stops. I swore a silent oath to them that I would do everything that I can to keep them safe, make them smile, provide them with a place to live, food to eat, help them learn and do whatever else that I have within my power to mold them into independent and productive members of society.
But one of them got away from me.
And that’s what is raining on my parade today. I had one job, Jesus. Just one. And while I know I didn’t exactly fail My Chief, it sure as hell feels like it.
One of my prisoners escaped. One of my workers quit. One of my charges fled. One of my children died on my watch and, while I still have five remaining children (four by birth and one by love), the fact that one of my children left this Earth while under my care makes me feel harshly inadequate and undeserving of the festivities of the day.
Don’t get me wrong. I know this is foolish talk.
My brain knows that I am a good mom. I don’t like saying that because its bad juju and I still feel like I’m just winging it most of the time. There are no guidelines for raising one child so I know there isn’t one for six. Good Lord! Who in their right mind has six kids, anyway? No one, that’s who. I am not in my right mind. No sane person would take on the task of birthing five babies, getting married and loving one like I birthed her myself. I do and have always done everything that I can think of to make sure that my kids aren’t missing out on anything. They may be a bit spoiled. But they’re happy, healthy and lacking nothing that they need.
Here I am, mom to six beautifully amazing humans, and one of them broke my heart and left without asking. And here I am, sitting here at seven o’clock on Mother’s Day morning, trying to be grateful for my life and my female ancestors and my mom and my wonderful friends and my children. I’m looking around my room and thanking God for everything I see because I want to make sure that He and the Universe know that I am not at all ungrateful for the blessings that I have. My daily affirmations always end with “I am blessed and I am grateful”.
I don’t want no smoke.
It’s just hard to be grateful when your heart was in six pieces and one of them leaves forever. And not just one of them, but the one that made me a mother first. How is it still beating? If a piece to a puzzle is missing, the picture isn’t complete. My picture is grossly lacking a beautiful brown face with long twisted braids and natural highlights. But even when her heart stopped beating, my kept going. Oh! That’s another thing I am grateful for.
You hear that God? I’m grateful down here!!!
So I'm gonna suck it up. I'm gonna smile and appreciate all the love that I've been given and I'm going to remember my Chief. Thanks to my Big Girl, I've got my Airheads and bottle of Pepsi on deck, and I'm going to let my babies love me. Because I'm grateful for being able to be their mom.