Sunday, May 9, 2010

Mother's Day

I'm not sure I want Mother's Day. I've been sitting here for a while, thinking about Sam and getting sad, so I thought I'd blog for a while.

Mother's Day hasn't really crossed my mind much this week. Perhaps because I've been so busy. There hadn't been much a sense of dread or anticipation. Until yesterday. I started to think about it a bit yesterday (and obviously others did too, as when I got back from my photography expedition there was a pot of little paper daisies (I think) sitting on the bench waiting for me.

But last night at the engagement party, I really started to feel it. The speeches were what really set me off; I started to think about how I'd never see Sam get engaged. Then some of the people I was sitting with started talking about what a pain kids were, and how they'd never have them, or only wanted babies, but not kids. Of course all I could think about was how much I'd like to see mine. As painful as he was sometimes, he was also pretty awesome.
So by the time I got home, I was a little melancholy. I posted about it on Facebook, and got some lovely messages from people, which helped a bit. I'm glad people are still tuned in enough to do that for me (thank you!). This morning, it's not so bad (perhaps the alcohol I'd consumed had switched my emotions into hyperdrive), but it still hurts. I'm glad I'll be busy all day.

Every Mother's Day I wake up before everyone else. I'm a morning person; tuned to wake up at a certain time, and it doesn't change on the weekends. I might get out of bed a little later, but once I'm awake, I can't just roll over and go back to sleep. For a few years, each Mother's Day I stubbornly waited in bed for everyone else to get up, hoping for some breakfast in bed, or at least a coffee. But the rest of my family are night owls, and like to sleep in, so a while ago I realised that it was never going to change; that I probably wasn't ever going to have the 'kids on the bed' Mother's Day that I'd always had with my parents. Once I figured that out, I enjoyed creating new traditions with my family.

Not that we had any traditions, really. For the past few years, Sam had made me a card and has been getting Ollie to sign it since he was able (I'll have to dig some of them out). We'll often go out somewhere - for a picnic or to the markets, somewhere that I choose. And I never cook. We usually go out with my parents for dinner, and sometimes we do breakfast with Anthony's family, so there's always good food and company involved too.

I've never made a huge deal about Mother's Day. I've always told my family not to bother too much with presents (although I secretly do love getting them!), they just had to be nice to me (all of them), get along (the kids), and maybe give me a massage (Anthony). Sometimes they manage all that plus a pressie, sometimes they manage none of it. :) It's OK though, because the rest of the year, they show me in lots of ways that they love me and appreciate me.

My little family and I have never been all that great at 'Hallmark Days'. We make a big fuss about birthdays, but as I've posted before, we don't really do too much at Christmas and Easter. We don't even acknowledge Valentines Day or Halloween, and Mothers/Fathers Days are fairly low key (as I've described above). For the most part, I'm of the opinion that you should be able to celebrate your loved ones any day of the year, and these days seem mainly geared towards big spending (I know it's hypocritical to criticise this after I've just said I like presents, but don't worry, I'll be able to live with myself!).

Having also worked with people, and then as a teacher for a while now, I have seen the impact these days can have on those who don't fit the traditional mould. I've seen the lonely people celebrating Christmas or Easter at the movies, or at the club. I wonder how a kid who's lost their mum feels when everyone's talking about Mother's Day? What about the kid who never knew their Dad? And what about the woman who desperately wants to have kids, but can't?

Or the mum who's lost their child.

I don't really want to celebrate Mother's Day. I know that I still have one child, and maybe things will change in time, but for now I'm content to be cynical about it. Samuel turned me into a mother, perhaps before I was ready, but he made me the mum that I am now. I don't want to celebrate being a mother without him.


  1. Dearest girl, "the Mum that you are now", is the best Mum that Oliver will ever know. And the Mum that you were to Sam was also the best you could have been, and he knew that, and loved you for it.
    You have to take some comfort in knowing that.
    Love, Dad.

  2. Beautiful words Grandad

  3. Yes, lovely words.
    Thanks Dad!


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