It's the Saturday before Mother's Day, a much maligned "holiday" made up by the greeting card producers of America so many years ago. Then the flower growers and candy makers hopped on the bandwagon and bing-bang-boom - Mother's Day as we know it today.
And Mother's Day stirs up so many emotions for people. Gratitude mostly. Mine are probably not those of most. And this is something that I've been aware of since about nine years old and has somewhat bothered me later in life. While in 4th grade when the other little girls in my class would go around the table declaring that they love their mother, but I could not.
And I feel for those kids who were neglected and ignored today. My adult realization is that I grew up in a household ran by a mother who was depressed. I was raised by a caretaker and not a mother. And it maybe because she was older than most at the time she started to have children, or even combined with the fact that she was the youngest of four herself.
But for whatever reason she behaved the way she did towards me and my brother, even the hatred towards my father that she divorced, we will never know because she took it to the grave.
What I do know for a fact that is I'm not my mother. I have done things in my life and accomplished things that she never did and most things I'm glad that I did. I had my son at age 21. I own my home. I own two cars.
Despite the fact that both of my parents were neglectful to a degree, I somehow ended up not being a huge detriment on society.
I learned that there are three types of people in this world:
1) those who follow the rules
2) those who acknowledge there are rules but think they don't apply to them
3) those who just do what they want with reckless abandon.
... guess which lane I swim in?