Blogs Are Stupid

Doesn't anyone believe in Dear Diary anymore? What happened to the joy of putting actual pen to paper? And why does every ordinary Jane and John think they can write well enough to burden the world with their scribblings? It’s a mystery that badly needs solving. My first entry contains my thoughts about blogging and will set your expectations. The rest will probably be stream of consciousness garbage, much like you’ll find on any other blog. Perhaps we will both come away enlightened.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

A Dearth of Awesomeness

There's no pretty way to say this, so I'll state it plainly: Mother's Day without a Mother sucks.

I have been angry for six weeks. That's the period of time in which we are typically bombarded with Hallmark card, jewelry, chocolate and flower delivery commercials.

I don't want a card. Talk is cheap but cards are not. I find it ridiculous to pay five dollars for some schlocky sentiment and a hastily scribbled signature. I can do that myself. See? Dear you, You are terriffic. I like you. I may get angry and say things I don't mean like the other day when I called you a hopeless calorie whore for eating four of those dutch caramel wafers, but that doesn't change how I feel about you. Well, maybe sometimes. But most of the time I really like you and think you're terriffic. Love yourself. Love, Yourself.

Geez, I should be getting paid for my Hallmakr skillz.

I don't want jewelry, particularly not jewelry that looks like boobs and a butt. "Open Heart Collection" sounds far more sophisticated than "Boobs and Butt Collection" but it is what it is. If calling myself by another name would confer upon me the desirable attributes that I wish to posess, I would call myself  Princess Beautimous Eternally Youthful of the Fabulously Rich clan. But I would still be  middle aged, middle class, with a muffin top, crows feet, and chin hair that proliferates far too quickly. And also, curiously, seems to be invisible until it is at least four inches long.

I don't want Chocolate. I work for Weight Watchers for fuck's sake. I get two pounds leeway. I can gain two pounds just thinking about chocolate, three by looking at it, four by smelling it, five if I consider eating it, and if I actually eat it? I have to start doing that thing where you loop a rubber band through the button hole on your jeans to make them sitting down pants again.

I don't want flowers. They die. It's insane to spend $100 dollars on stuff that dies. Or poops. But that's another post for another day.

You know what I liked? Those little flower pots with the fingerprint lady bugs on them. Hunks of lumpy plaster with misshapen hand imprints. Bookmarks adorned with foam flowers sporting toothless photo centers. Wonderful, horrible poems written in carefully constructed capital letters on dash lined paper. Clusters of  weeds in a dixie cup.

And having a Mom. I really liked having a Mom.

And now I don't and it sucks.

So pardon me if I don't respond to all your "My Mom is Awesome" posts. It's nothing personal. I'm sure your Moms are awesome. But acknowledging your Moms' awesomeness hurts me in a way I find difficult to put into words. Most of the time, I can ignore the lack of motherly awesomeness in my life. But all the relentless awesomemongering forces me to think about how awesome my Mom was and how she's not able to be awesome anymore and how much I took her awesomeness for granted while she was here and how I'll now never be able to express to her how much her awesomeness shaped my life.

Sometimes it's just easier to be angry.

So I am.

I should be over it by Father's Day.
 

6 Comments:

  • At 11:50 AM, Anonymous Ida said…

    Hey girl, right there with you! My youngest daughter was the reason i loved Mother's Day, she made it so special with cooking breakfast and bringing it to me in bed, and then a four course dinner would follow that evening. That ended 10 years ago when I lost her. Now, just memories of both daughter and my mom. When those we love leave us, it's us left behind that struggle with these Hallmark occasions, which are just something I'd rather sleep through.....good thing I'm sick and have an excuse to stay in bed! Tomorrow is just a day I try to stay off FB!

     
  • At 12:02 PM, Blogger the only daughter said…

    Given this is the first "M" day without my mom and this is her birthday month, it has indeed been hard and you said it precisely.

    I could go on but I'll save it for my own post.

    Happy Limerick Day

     
  • At 3:30 PM, Blogger Margaret said…

    I have my mother, but both my girls are in CA this weekend and my husband(who always got me a card as the mother of his children) is gone. So, it will be a hard one for me for different reasons. All holidays are hard for me these days.

     
  • At 5:15 PM, Blogger merinz said…

    I feel the same - I absolutely hate the commercial hype that goes with Mothers Day.

    I always told my children - go and pick a flower out of the garden, one that you especially like, and give it to me with a hug. That is what I would love from you!

     
  • At 6:03 PM, Blogger Never That Easy said…

    Yes: It sucks to say it, but I'm glad I'm not the only one feeling it. As someone who wants to be a mother but isn't, and who spent the last year caring for and then burying my last remaining grandmother, I'm finding this holiday more difficult than I'd expected. I've got my mom, and I'm going to celebrate the hell out of her, but I'm feeling the ache of what I'm missing a lot more than usual this year. Thanks for not making me feel like a heel for saying so.

     
  • At 11:55 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    My Mum is gone too and I hear you in every way, I spent yesterday surfing waves of grief and anger while trying to be a happy smiling Mother to my boys so they wouldn't hate me, they are young enough that I did get the handmade loveliness and it melted my broken heart.

    Father's Day is just as painful for me, my Dad is gone too

    All these "special" dats suck for someone and I try to remember that, folks who didn't get to be parents or who are mourning a child, folks mourning a parent. Every day is special which is a lesson you learn the hard way.
    Boliath xx

     

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