Here are some thoughts that have crossed my mind this week about Mother’s Day.
First of all, in Mexico we celebrate Mother’s Day on May 10th, regardless of what day it falls on. So this year it was on a Thursday, and I totally forgot about it. It wasn’t until my sister posted a picture on FB of her at my mother’s grave that I was reminded of the holiday. And then here comes the following Sunday the 13th, which is the American Mother’s Day and everyone suddenly really really loves their mother, but on any other day they secretly hate her. But this post isn't about negative feelings we sometimes have for our mothers. Read on.
I remember one time when my mother was cooking something in a giant pot and stirring it with a metal spoon and I don’t remember what I asked her for and she rejected my demand and so I called her a bitch; well, she did not hesitate and took the metal spoon and pressed it against my lips, and I never called her a bitch again. I was seven or eight years old.
I was also reminiscing this past week of the many times when my mother would take us out on a this "budget" field trips. I miss those field trips. My favorite ones were the trips to the Chapultepec Zoo in Mexico City, and she would bring tostadas, deli sliced ham and cream and we would find a spot in a grassy area and pic nic to our heart’s content.
I also remember that my mother bought me my first pair of figure skates when I was 12 and I was learning how to figure skate in Sparks Nevada; she knew I really wanted a pair of professional skates and she saved up the $300 or so to buy me a pair. My mother also bought me my first car, which was a VW Rabbit 1977, one that I had specifically had been eyeing for a long time – the car was not on sale, but I loved the design and the turquoise color and the sunroof, and I dreamed of it being mine and then one day my mother said “I don’t want you riding that bike after work in the dark and so we are getting you a car" – and so we walked to a nearby place and when we got there I squealed like a little girl with excitement and my dad told me to STFU because if they saw how badly I wanted it, the seller would raise the price. I adored that car. Still, one of my favorites, and when I traded it in for my very first “modern” car, it actually ached.
I remember that my mother didn’t demand things from me, although she needed things. I also remember what a dick I was to her a lot of times, for example, one time I told her that I was going to start eating yogurt in the mornings, and so when she went grocery shopping she bought some and brought it home for me and I remember how excited she was to tell me that she had brought me my yogurt, and then I picked it up and saw that it was regular yogurt (not the low fat, low carb that I wanted) and I threw a fit, and she simply said “Just leave it then. I will eat it.” But I knew I had hurt her feelings, and to this day, it makes me tear up a little bit. I'm an ungrateful dick.
I remember one time when she asked me to buy her her smokes, and I told her that I would, but that I would not pull into the driveway to deliver them, but that I would throw them out the window into the yard of our house (on a main avenue) and she could pick them up from there. I did just that; today I wish I had gotten out of the car and handed her her smokes, because she deserved much more than that.
I remember how it was 1997 and I discovered the internet, and how it functioned on dialup and how I spent hours and hours online and totally ignored my mother for nearly a year, and I limited her access to the phoneline because I was using it for the internet and I would throw a fit if anyone called and I got disconnected.
My ma died unexpectedly a year later, and I wish I had spent much more time with her. Today, I see a lot of young people neglecting their relationships with their parents or people simply holding a grudge against their parents, and it breaks my heart because although I understand that sometimes our parents hurt us and we need to break away, sometime we get so fixated in hating and punishing that we overlook the opportunity to forgive, forget and love for what time we can.
I miss my mother at random times throughout the year. And I am thankful for the “other mothers” that I have in my life who care for me. Thank you , because I did not just turn out to be such an awesome person on my own, I am a product of the contribution of many mothers.
Anyway, that’s my long-ass mother’s day rant.
Bye.
