I got caught by surprise last week, and as I am wading through the shit that is currently holding me down, I'm not sure how it ended up that way. Last Sunday was Mother's Day, so, yes, I did think I would spend some time thinking about and toasting my mother. It has been slightly less than a year since she died, which is really bizarre and an entirely different post, but the point is, we have done milestones. We have done her birthday and all the big holidays. We did Christmas and Thanksgiving and Easter. I had my first birthday without her. Some of those things sucked and some were honestly fine. Mother's Day was not even a blip on my radar. But then came mother's day and she brought a bulldozer with her.
I started writing this post last Thursday and last week was LOOOONNNGG. My attitude became progressively worse. (Sorry about that to anyone who was in the line of fire.) My glass was half empty and seriously, I'm just... I mean what the hell? Mother's Day is for ME too. I don't want to be a miserable fucking grump. I wanted to be the uber Pollyanna and jump into the weekend radiating glitter from my eyeballs and shooting rainbows every time I opened my mouth.
We all like to think that Mother's Day is about mothers, but it's also about your kids being psyched because it's a day they make special things for you. It's about husbands who take both kids and your giant dog on an hour long run so you can have a quiet house. And it's about saying thank you for flowers, even though you are horrible at arranging flowers and also kind of don't like arranging flowers. Or is that just me? (hint here - if you are getting flowers as a gift for any occasion, take a vase with you or get them arranged. Your wife/girlfriend/boyfriend/husband/babymama/mama/boo/bae/host/hostess/friend will thank you.)
I had to figure out a way to turn the suck around and bring my A game so I wouldn't have to live in fear of being called out by my adorably and incredibly mouthy children. (They have been known to question people who don't smile enough for their standards.) The best I could come up with was to take the elephant in the room (dead mom) and put it in the center of the brunch table. Cremation makes things like this both possible and convenient. In another mood lightening moment, there was the fact that my son thought the urn was a drum. Even after we told him it was his grandmother's ashes. He's a born percussionist. She's missed out on his most spirited year yet, so I think a little urn drumming is only fair.
Sunday I had my game face on, and I didn't realize how much it took out of me until I bit someone's head off yesterday. My husband is SO lucky y'all. Truth.
Living with a loss makes me want to bang my head against every hard surface. But maybe only about 30% of the time. Depending on the day/hour.
More to come.