Mother’s Day, Oh How I Love Ya

No, not really. Kinda wish I could skip it.

I will say this. Having kids does transform Mother’s Day into a not total nightmare some years.

When I appreciate and think of Mother’s Day as a celebration of my motherhood, that is easy to get behind. That feels great. Joyous, even.

Which is a lot better than in the days before I had kids.

When Mother’s Day was just another reminder I had a big gaping hole where other people have loving, nurturing moms.

Mothers who babysit, go wedding dress shopping, send cookies, read everything you write, always have fresh flowers in your room when you come home to visit, can remember the name of a recipe and where to find it when you can’t, gently guide you away from abusive men, maybe love your kids even more than you do, celebrate your wins, mourn your losses, and want to kill those who hurt you. Hold you when you fall apart.

It’s really painful to be reminded of not having that.

Lots of things remind me of that big, gaping hole.

As they have for the past 22 years.