I can hear her now sayin’ she ain’t gonna have it

When I think of my mom, many different things come to mind. Her pigs in the blanket on Christmas morning. How she always used Clinique makeup. And Youth Dew perfume. Her love of horses (and cowboys). When she would make breakfast for dinner and how it was my absolute favorite. Our trip to San Antonio with my great-grandmother and my sister, who was still in a stroller at the time. But most of all, I know how proud she is of me these days. Which means a lot, as I am not always proud of myself.

You’ll hear (read?) me say, “I didn’t imagine I would be single and childless at 38” or 39 or 40 (um, if this blog still exists then: high five, Nikki) many, many times. That’s the whole point of this thing. Dealing with the fact that, if you had told me how my life would be now when I got a divorce 10 years ago, I would not have believed you. And probably would have said well fuck this shit and moved to France.

But hey, at least I have good skin.

So having said all that, a little real talk for Mother’s Day: I get somewhat mixed emotional on this day. I go through the motions of wishing a happy day and showing gratitude for my mom, sisters, sister-in-law, and all my beautiful friends who are wonderful mothers. But there’s a part of me, somewhere deep down inside, that gets sideways.

I posted about this in a group of which I am member on Facebook, Forever 35 Listeners with No Kids. (Forever 35 is a kick ass podcast you’re fidna here me talk about a LOT). I know I am not alone on this and wondered exactly how others deal with it. All of us in that group don’t have kids for various reasons, whether by choice or nature or why ever. If it’s by choice, it doesn’t mean we don’t get to be upset about it on occasion. That’s not how it works. For the most part, I am now fine with never having my own biological children. When I take 2.5 seconds to stop mentally berating the shit out of myself, I can see my life is pretty great. I have a job I figgin’ love and my career is back on track after years of derailment; I’ve had the chance to visit three different countries and countless cities over the past couple of years; I am finally paying off quite a bit of debt; and as always, I have more friends than anyone I know. And I only have THE BEST FRIENDS.

In short, this road I am on doesn’t suck as bad as I sometimes think it does. But every once in awhile, something will happen that will trigger a minor meltdown. Like yesterday. A memory popped in my On this Day section of Facebook (that page is both a blessing and a curse), from five years ago when my lovely paternal grandmother was dying. I ended the post by saying, “I hope when I’m a mom I’ll be as strong of a woman as she was.” And oh boy. That did not sit well.

I don’t want anyone’s sympathy. Or judgement. Or advice. This is just one of those things a girl has to deal with herself (but it helps to know you’re not alone, nonetheless). Cause as of today, I am back to normal and looking forward to mimosas with some of my besties in an hour. But I had a moment there for a bit; I was down a rabbit hole of “gosh, where did I go wrong?”

The truth is, I did not go wrong. I’ve had many nights and many boys with which I’ve gone terribly wrong (I won’t list names), but overall, this is my journey and I don’t need to wish any of it different. And you, my friend, who is reading this and relating to it: you did not go wrong, either. The universe knows what each of us has to offer in this lifetime, and the next, and we are here for it.

Besides, after those mimosas? I get to come home, lay on the couch, get the shit scared out of me by the new episode of Handmaid’s Tale and actually take a nap. All interrupted.

So shout out to all my friends and loved ones for whom this day is a little strange, maybe a little sad. For whatever reason, it matters not. Your story and your feelings are yours; you get to have them. And Happy Mother’s Day to those of us who are woke up every day with a good cat pat in the face because there’s only a quarter cup of food left or a 13 year-old dog who has to go outside at 1 a.m. Our struggle may not be the same, but it’s super real, too.

______

This is the first post I’ve shared publicly, for many reasons. Mostly fear. So if you found yourself here and want to read more, there’s already plenty – my trip to Austin, my family reunion, drinking (shocking, I know), St. Paddy’s day and more. Hit HOME in the menu. Let me know what you think. Xo. 

2 thoughts on “I can hear her now sayin’ she ain’t gonna have it

  1. You are definitely not alone. I didn’t think I would be single and childless at 38, but here we are. It’s prerty good if you ask me!

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s