Mom Jeans

Today is Mother's Day and I am celebrating my mom by going out to dinner with her at The Melting Pot. She really enjoyed it when my sister and I took her there a couple years ago. Since my sister and her husband live in a different state now, it will be just her and I and we are both looking forward to having some fun over a fondue pot.

Yesterday I went the Le Target and did some necessary shopping. I am so glad I went there because I forgot about the Mother's Day card I MUST buy each year, until then. I say "must" because my mother is one of those people who insists on receiving a card. You could buy her a 5-carat diamond necklace and she would be completely pissed that you didn't get her a $4 card from CVS to go with it. I can remember being in my mid-teens and her screaming in my face to the point of projectory spittle because I didn't get her a card for Christmas. So, now I just obey to avoid obviously affecting her state of sanity - and avoid letting my temper get the best of me and saying something nasty to her. But - my honest opinion is that it's a fucking card, get over it.

So, I am standing in the card section trying to keep my Target cart out of the way and get close enough to the cards to see what they look like and reach into the slots. There is a jerk-off kid in his late teens that is talking on his phone about how he has to get better wheels on his "ride" so that some other douchebag doesn't think HE has the best car and tires (heaven forbid!!). While having this rivetting conversation, he is blocking the main section of the "mom from daughter" cards. I slowly but commandingly push my cart into the section so it taps his thigh and he looks at me with a look on his face that says "look hot (yeah, I can be hot in my own narrative) old lady, I am the shit and you just hit me with your cart". I in turn said "excuse my cart, can I squeeze in here? Thanks so much!" - translation "take your conversation elsewhere twerp, because unless you are a transsexual, you are not anyone's daughter and I need a goddamn card for my mom or she will be boilig my head in the fondue pot!". He kindly slinked away.

I finally am looking at cards up close and personal. I am pulling out frilly card after card and noticing a singular theme - I can't relate my relationship with my mom to any of these cards. They all say things that send the message "you were the person who taught me everything that makes me the wonderful woman I am today. I looked up to you growing up and prayed I could be just like you. I am still hoping to live up to that aspiartion.". I know some readers will judge me as a terrible person for saying all of this, but I can only write the truth. I don't feel that way about my mom. I love her, but we do not have that kind of a relationship where I live in adoration of her and all that she has done in her life. That is not because I am some sort of evil heartless person that hates their parents - it's just because we never had that sort of a relationship.

I struggle with this card thing every year - honestly, every year since I can remember. I used to opt for the funny card, but my mom doesn't think the same things are funny that I would laught at. So, like all year that have past, I stand reading every possible card in hopes that one says something that she will take as a loving gesture and not get the wrong idea - because as I know she takes it seriously.

They need to make cards like this (take notes Hallmark):

"You and I are both adults; At this time in our life we respect and love each other; I am happy to be able to spend this time with you because I love you"

"Happiness for me is being able to talk openly and share my day's happenings with you; I feel closer to you every time we spend time together"

"As women we are sharing our lives; This time has been long awaited; I am glad we can love each other as only the two of us can"


I used to loathe my mother - the strongest feelings of loathing came on while I was a teen. I would stare at her as she went about her business and think terrible things about her. I would have such a horrible feeling in my heart and think "you are such a rediculous person. How can you live with yourself like this? How can you pretend that you are perfect and there is something wrong with everyone else?". I would make myself physically sick with hate and anger towards her. It made me an ugly person. I can remember making fun of her clothes - her extreme high-waisted jeans with the pockets that started on her back, her terrible 3-inch wide striped shorts that were navy and white knit - they looked like a circus tent to me. Her short grey hair that I thought made her look old and butch. I was a mean teenager and she was my main target.

I can't imagine what she was thinking - even now that I am an adult and at the age that she was when I was 5. But my mother was not nice to me - and not that she was just strict or stressed out. She carried the same hate and loathing about something in her life, but took it out on me. Maybe not JUST me, but I was included in her target group. I never did anything to deserve the treatment as a child - I can't imagine what child could be that terrible. But, I will say that I was always dressed very nicely, I was taught very good manners, allowed to be creative, had a good roof over my head, was provided an excellent education and she never thought I had too many Barbies - even if her jealous friends would make comments about how many I had or that I just got "another one, didn't I have enugh for one girl?".

As an adult, I know she has always loved me even when we both doubted that we loved each other at all. I can't imagine how difficult it is to be a mother and while also trying to figure out who you are as a maturing woman and wife. The mothers who do it well, probably give up one of the other parts of their lives. Maybe she didn't know what to do when situations came up. Maybe she was scared and overwhelmed. I can understand those things - you never know how you will react until it is YOUR situation. I forgive my mother for the things that have happened. The small amount of people that know my whole childhood story can't imagine why I would even talk to her, but people like my sister understand why. Because she is not a terrible person and as adults you can love the same things that you sat and glared at. Because her love and loving her is more important than Mom Jeans and bad hair. It's more important than a card - it's your Mother. She sat in front of a window air-conditioner with you in her belly, suffering in the hottest summer of the decade but with excitement and anticipation that soon she would see your face. She held the 1.5 year-old you tight in her arms as she ran to the hospital emergency room crying for them to help you after you fell down the stairs. She sewed all of your dance costumes for weeks every year and ran from the audience to the dressing room to console you when your heel got caught in your dance skirt on stage and you ran off the stage crying. She held you and stroked your hair when your first love told you he cheated on you and you were beside yourself with hurt. She still calls you and sings happy birthday into the phone and tells you the story of when you were born, every year on your birthday. And she will never leave you, never. and I will thank her for that.

You might wonder what card I settled on...here it is:

"We are here to receive, to give, to sing, to travel, to slow down, to forgive, to heal, to connect, to remember, to speak, to laugh. We are here to love. Happy Mother's Day"

Happy Mother's Day