Mother's Day

Some people I know have a strained relationship with their mother (I certainly do). The lucky others count their mothers among their closest friends. Nothing in life has made me feel more gypped, jealous, and sorry for myself as my pitiful excuse for a relationship with my mother. She sent me an e-card today, full of flowery verse about how much she loves me and is proud of me. It made my blood run cold, knowing how false her sentiment and opposite her feelings for me. That can't bode well, eh?

I'd say it's a clean 50/50 faultline, running between my complete rejection of people and things I don't like, and her narcissistic personality and terrifying parenting style. Growing up, my friends' and boyfriend's mothers tended to adopt me into their families like a stray duckling, making my own mother's inadequacies all the more vibrant. I was so angry with her for selling us out, putting us in danger, and engaging in so much emotional deprivation and neglect, I swore never to procreate, lest I pass on her evil DNA.

Of course, I caved on that last part. I have four gorgeous children whom I love so indescribably much, and who love me back. They've all grown into such amazing individuals and none resemble my mother in the slightest! Trouble Jr., Nana and Pop-Pop, and I all talked to the 3 little Troublets on speakerphone while they enjoyed their bath in Colorado. They told us about their latest trip to Casa Bonita. It was divine.

I can't think of a better Mother's Day present for me. Thank you, kids!

(Thank you, Superfly, for calming me down when I'm cracked-out, and well, for being Superfly TNT)