I REALLY dislike Mother’s Day. Yeah, I just ripped the band-aid right off, didn’t I? Now, before we go any further let me assure you this is not one of those petty I hate Mother’s Day because I never get what I really want blogs. In fact, I hate those things more than I hate Mother’s Day. Rant – I know it’s supposed to be “our day” but let’s face it if you are a mother of minor children you never get a break. Even when you are sitting on your butt doing “nothing” you’re still worrying about something, planning something or doing something for your family. Rant over, now back to my real purpose.
The reason I hate Mother’s Day is two-fold. First, I feel like a fraud. Most of the women I know have always wanted to have kids. I, on the other hand, never wanted kids. It didn’t seem like a job I would enjoy or be qualified to do. Then, there is the struggle to conceive. I have several friends who struggled at some point to have their families. I’ve seen how heartbreaking it can be for them – the procedures, the hoping, the waiting, the financial strain, the list goes on and on. I wasn’t even trying and boom, pregnant. Granted it took nearly 8 years of marriage before it happened but it’s not like we were or weren’t trying. We just didn’t care. It made me sort of feel guilty to tell people it just happened without any real effort or thought. I know I shouldn’t feel guilty and that I have every right to claim the title of Mother. I know I’ve taken the job of motherhood more serious than any other job I’ve ever had. I know I’ve done everything I possibly can to be a good Mother to my kids and yet I still feel like a fraud because I wasn’t one of those girls that dreamed of having a family.
The biggest reason I can’t stand Mother’s Day has to do with my relationship with my own mother. My mother and I had a horrible relationship. In fact, I come from a long line of women that had horrible relationships with their mother – three generations that I know of. As some of you know, my mother died when I was 19 so I have no way of ever building a decent relationship with her. One of the reasons I never wanted children was because I feared a horrible parent/child relationship. I was afraid I would fall into the same patterns and pitfalls as those who came before me. I still worry about this. I try my best and yet I still worry because I can see my mother in my actions some days. It’s not often but I still see it and it terrifies me.
My family knows I have issues with Mother’s Day. God bless ’em, they try to make me happy and go out of their way to be sweet. I appreciate it with every fiber of my being and yet every year I still feel a little sad and unworthy. However, this year I am going to make a concerted effort to be happier. After 13 years, I feel like I’ve earned the right to feel joyful. So, unlike some of those mothers bitching about a homemade present and dirty kitchen after the kids made a special breakfast, I say bring it on. Bring on that ugly as sin but made with love tchotchke. Bring on the burnt toast and runny egg breakfast. I may not have always wanted to be a Mother but I am grateful for the opportunity and I’m damn good Mom.