Okay...so I felt a little...taken for granted yesterday due to a minor thing that most days wouldn't bother me.  Hormones and Mother's Day not a great combo.

Then I fired up the wayback machine in my head and remembered how much more effort I put into celebrating stuff with my in-laws, friends, boyfriends, etc. when I was young and how very little thought I put into what I did for my parents.  

On the surface it looked like those other people were more important to me because of the effort and care that went into these stupid little hallmark sponsored tributes that I hate...but but truth is that was about making me look good, meeting other people's standards.  It sure wasn't me giving a crap about making them happy.  

I put my mom last when it came to that stuff because I never had to impress her.  She was there - she knew I loved her more than the others making me crazy...I gave her the gift of listening to me bitch about having to do that for everyone else.  Her position in my world was locked - I never felt I needed to do anything to maintain my position.

 

Sometimes I would do stuff for her to make her happy just because...she loved that.  She loved "just because" stuff most of all because it was devoid of obligation.  

My people hate obligatory displays of affection.

I didn't do those things often enough.  

I was in my mid-twenties when I lost my mom.  I wasn't an easy kid to raise and as a teenager I was definitely not easy to love...I was what my mom called "a lively girl."  Which is nice person speak for enormous pain in the ass.  I was challenging - when it was called for which I don't regret.  And often just for sport...which I do.  

I was barely 22 when I married the first time.  A very young 22.  You know how some people that age are mature young adults and have their shit together?  I was the opposite of that.   I had my first child fast enough that people were counting the months to try to figure out if I was knocked up at the wedding.  (Nope - sorry, gossips!)  

Soon after my mom went in for routine surgery...she wasn't feeling well, but they were going to remove this obstruction that was certainly benign and she'd be up and around in no time.  I was living in California at the time and she was adamant there was no reason for me to fly home just to sit in a waiting room.  I had a toddler (not yet 2) and was nearing the end of my first trimester with baby #2...the relief at not having to fly with a toddler while battling 24/7 morning sickness won out over my guilt and I didn't fly in.

I worried and I prayed...but I knew as long as the doctor's didn't fuck it up she'd be okay because it was routine.  She wasn't feeling well, but it wasn't serious because she was still working, going to church, seeing Grams a few times a week, etc...her life hadn't slowed down at all and she was as high energy as ever.  

I wasn't there when the doctor came out to tell my siblings Mom was in early stage 3 of a rare cancer.  The kind of rare they don't throw money at because research is better served to try to cure that which affects tens of thousands of people...not where new cases are counted in the hundreds.  

Due to the advanced stage and size of the tumor all the medical people were shocked she wasn't completely debilitated my pain for a year prior...her crazy high pain tolerance hid what was happening from her until it was too late.  

This was the hospital where my mom had been a nurse for years...the doctor knew her and everyone who knew her loved her.  He was welling up when he told my sister to try to fatten her up which she could still eat.  "Your mama too skinny to fight this."  At her funeral he cried as he told us how our skinny mama had comforted him when he broke the news to her.  He had never seen that kind of news accepted by a patient without fear.  Until her.  So brave, he said.  

I'm not so sure...to be a pedantic I always thought bravery was doing the right thing even though you're afraid.  I'm not sure you can be brave without fear. 

I struggle with my faith, but I will say hers did give her this amazing ability to face the worst life has to offer without fear and I'm still in awe of that.  

Anyway - she said she was glad that at least she saw us all through to adulthood...her heart would break for those with cancer who still had little ones.  She said she couldn't imagine how afraid she would be if she was leaving us while we were little to be raised without her.  

Through her whole ordeal she rarely complained...it wasn't her nature.  Her default was acceptance of what is and try to mitigate how much that can suck, but she didn't have the ability to self pity.  Further proof I'm nothing like her as if self pity was an Olympic event I'd be Michael freaking Phelps.  She got angry once because she was so frustrated at not being able to work or go help take care of Grams..."I can accept the cancer and I'm not afraid to die but does it have to be so damn inconvenient?!"  

For my mom that was seriously strong language. Hard to understand how she has a daughter who drops the F word 19 times before I leave for work on any given day. 

I've always been grateful for that - I don't know what my life would have looked like had this happened while I was a kid in need of active parenting...but the odds of a good outcome were slim.  I adored my Daddy and he was a wonderful father in many ways - but patience, emotional support, and day to day parenting?  Not his wheelhouse.  

But even though I was married with kids I think my being an adult was kind of a stretch...emotionally.  Hell, I'm almost 50 and I it's still a stretch most days.  I went from being a difficult kid to a someone who was, for a short time on my own,  focused on my new marriage and rapid fire babies to moving back in (husband and kids in tow) to switch roles and take care of her.

When I was on my own I called both my parents daily.  Daily.  They were very different people so I had things I needed Mom for and others I needed Dad for ...but I didn't function well without advice and support.  Even if most of the time I'd ignore the advice and argue and pout that I was a grown up and could do what I want.  (It's possible I remained somewhat difficult even past my teens.)

Attachment parenting wasn't a thing when I was a kid, at least that I know of, but they must have done it by accident since I didn't detach well.  

Hell...20+ years and they are long gone and I'm still unhealthily attached.  Like phantom limb pain...I know they aren't there, but try telling my brain that.

Anyway...I took her for granted because I knew she would always be there...until she wasn't.  So big picture when my kids take me for granted I know I did something right.  In spite of the eleventy million parenting mistakes I made in raising them...ways I've failed them...things I wish I could have given them...

I did get the unconditional love thing installed in their psyche first and it's hard coded.  It's like the OS of their psyches.  So the other emotional/mental apps that may come and go in life have to be compatible with the OS or they won't install.  If they try to load some thought processes or other emotional/mental applications which aren't compatible with the unconditional love and the sense of security and self worth I hope it gave them their brain will shoot error messages.  Won't load.  Incompatible with OS.  

In some ways I'm a better mom than mine was - she wasn't perfect and there were areas where she dropped the ball, despite the best of intentions.  

But for the other 99% of parenting I just tried to be half the mom she was and I didn't come close to hitting that...I never even made it into her league.  I didn't hand sew prize winning Halloween costumes.  My kids have had store bought birthday cakes, gifts not only not wrapped with love...but wrapped with staples or electrical tape.  Or just in a lovely Target bag fastened shut with a ponytail holder.  I certainly didn't model strength in the face of illness...unless my taking to my bed issuing self-pitying sighs punctuated by random shouts of how "I'm dying and none of you care!" each time I'm felled by the sniffles is a profile in courage.  I couldn't model for them endless patience and they have no idea what it's like to have a preternaturally cheerful mom...I taught them that annoyance and love definitely co-exist and not to go into IT unless they want to swear every time their phone rings.

(Fwiw I know this blog has become my weird therapist where I purge all my completely irrational thoughts about my parents because I know it's not healthy...but I don't run around in real life talking to people about this stuff and figure here I can purge and no one has to read it if they don't want to.  But if some of you are wondering if I go around bringing up my folks in real life all the time - I don't.  I'm pretty good at observing how normal people process emotions and emulating them.  )

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.  I meant to spend yesterday baking and stocking the freezer with home made soup in tribute to you...but I spent it napping, watching a bizarre selection of documentaries, fighting a headache, crying, doing logic puzzles to make my brain shush, and eating store bought brownies.  All in all not a bad day.  And if you happened to pop in and see me yell "FUCK NO!  Are you kidding me?!" when Mr. Buffy asked if I wanted to go to the cemetery to visit you and Dad, don't take it personally.   I love you, but that would have required leaving my couch so....no.