I'm taking my whole family to a Cincinnati Reds game on Sunday. We all get together and to something we all love and are interested in. Beats the shit out of idol conversation and doing housework. I also love my mom. Without support from her and Dad, I wouldn't be anywhere near where I am now.
I'm another with a fucked up bio mom, but I'm lucky enough to have other people. My aunt stepped up and took custody of me when I was 5 because my parents were nuts. She's the one who did all the mom stuff with me, from dealing with girl scout meetings to taking care of me for 2 months when I was 16 and had major back surgery. If she hadn't taken me in, I'd no doubt be a worthless piece of shit. I tell her everything, good, bad, and ugly and she listens quietly and gives me an "Oh Jesus" when I need it. The only reason I know how to cook is because of her and I am a damn good cook. She always plants a huge vegetable garden in the summer, so I took her this past weekend to a local nursery and bought her a bunch of crap. I'll go over this weekend and help her, though I'll hate every minute. I also have a pretty rad stepmom. She started dating my dad when I was 8, and wasn't scared off by the fact that he had 3 kids already and another on the way. My dad dated a lot of goofy bitches (my bio mom included), so when he landed my stepmom, we were all surprised by how cool she was. She really pushed for him to grow up and spend more time with his kids and she's probably the only reason that I have such a close relationship with him now. She's Italian and has a huge extended family who've welcomed us with open arms. The reason I've always loved her is because she's never treated my siblings and I any differently than she treats her own daughter. She tells people all the time when she meets them, "I have 5 kids." She never says step-kids and she was super excited for my brother's kids to call her 'grandma'. I bought her a gift card to Bed, Bath, and Beyond so she can buy some new shit for their second house and I'm taking her to breakfast on Saturday. Flowers and food guys, I have yet to meet a mom who doesn't love those 2 things.
I'm going down to NYC to cook dinner on Saturday night, then I'll take her to brunch Sunday morning. Pretty standard.
My mom lives halfway across the country. I have tried to get creative in in the past, but the gift that she always wants.....hands down....is a gift certificate to a Med Spa that she goes to. So, essentially, I will be getting her what I always get her for special occasions. Botox. My mom is great. I talk to her probably 5 times a week for extended periods of time. She is a bit naive, but I find it charming now. I am probably nothing like her, but that is fine, I think we both appreciate that in each other. I am rational (almost to a fault) and she is emotional, so we are a good sounding board for each other.
Focus: I appreciate that my mom treats me worse than anyone else she has to deal with. I'm largely OK with that, because it has taught me a lot about people. Still, she tries in her own way I suppose. Knowing that 90% of the time I'm completely unappreciated at home, despite chores (and trying to figure out my dad's business' books), is probably a good thing because it's prepared me for how other people will likely treat me. From experience dealing with her, I've also learned what I don't want out of life, and that is also good to know, right? Alt. Focus: My mom is working all day Sunday, so I'll most likely be making dinner. I don't waste money on cards, but I might get her a box of chocolates - there's a chocolate factory around the corner, and they don't load up on sugar like many other manufacturers.
I am my Mother's first, and I'll never not be aware of that fact. I've put her through enough crap during the time I was supposed to be an adult, and she still helps me and my young family out now. Things are tight for me financially, so I can't go overboard, but maybe a nice framed photo of me, the de-facto and Jr (said in a Sean Connery voice) will do. As for Mrs Common Law mav_ian, it'll be her first Mother's Day, she appreciates fast food more than she'd ever appreciate flowers. And before you say anything, she's barely 100lb, if that (I hope to God that the boy gets her metabolism). So I think I'll get her drive-thru in bed.
My mom died when I was seven, and my stepmom died when I was twelve, so I'm usually either bitter or sad when this particular holiday rolls around. But in the past few years, I've found it helpful to use it as a time to remember to be thankful that that I do still have mothers in my life, and I have had the twisted luxury of getting to choose who my mother is. I became friends with my best friend during the last year that my mom was alive. We lived on the same street so we were on the same bus, and we were in the same Brownies troupe, which her mom was the leader of. I think her mom knew what was happening, and kind of arranged it so that we would be friends, as you can kind of do when you're six. Then, it just sort of happened that we became really close, and I more or less got adopted into their family as shit continued to hit the fan. I've had my own bed in my best friend's room since they tore down their old house and built another. I split my time between my house and theirs as if they were my divorced parents. She has always been there for me for both the practical reasons (needing a ride or a place to sleep) and the emotional reasons (building our own traditions together). What's especially wonderful is that they have a huge family on both sides, and all of them have unconditionally not questioned that I am now also a part of their family. Her mom is my grandma, her sisters are my aunts. I've been to their weddings and family reunions. We text all the time, talk on Facebook, see each other when I"m home, even if her real daughter isn't. Every now and then it hits me how much she and her family have done for me and how important it is to me, and how much it means to me. I'm very lucky to have her. My other main Motheresque is kind of weird. She's my dad's ex-girlfriend. They started dating when I was a sophomore or junior in high school, and dated for about five years. She was his first girlfriend after my stepmom died and I was reluctant at first, but we quickly became really close. She doesn't have any kids, so I became the daughter she never had. We would have these days where I would go down to the city (she lives in Queens) and we'd spend the day together before we both took the train back to my hometown to meet my dad for dinner. We did things like going prom dress shopping together and going to The Chocolate Show and big exhibits. I felt comfortable talking to her about so many things, and she entered my life at a time when it was important to have some kind of mother figure about things I didn't always feel as comfortable turning to with my friend's mom, for whatever reason. She also represented this life - cool, independent woman living in the city - that I was just starting to realize I wanted, and she helped me figure out how to become that person. They broke up right as I started living in the city, and for a few months it was strange and confusing to figure out what we were supposed to do. We saw each other a couple of times when I stayed here for a summer, but I didn't know what my boundaries were. One time, when I wanted to ask her if I could stay with her when I was visiting the city right before I moved here for good, she sensed my hesitation and interrupted me to tell me "I may not be seeing your dad anymore, but you are still my friend. Our relationship is separate from the one we had. I'm not going to be another mother figure in your life that disappears on you, not when I don't have to. I'm still here for you, and I always will be." It still makes me cry sometimes. Now, we see each other every other month or so. To simplify things, she just calls me her stepdaughter. My dad and my best friend's mom are only an hour and a half away, but it still feels nice to have a parental figure here in the city. Sometimes I just need an adult.
My mother is an unwavering rock of support, fried Southern foods, technological incapacity (she said she couldn't figure the Ipad out) and fart jokes. She and I have a tremendous amount in common and I could rely on her to slap fight Jon Jones to the death if she thought I needed her to. Every time I see someone I know cranking out another kid, I seriously think: that poor fuck won't have a third of the Mom that I have. This year, my gift will be two weeks late, but I'll be bringing her jewelry, some stupidly expensive organic cocoa and a ton of swag from Bali (island dresses, purses, sarongs carefully selected by my girlfriend when I was fucking off somewhere). This has to make up for missing Christmas, her birthday, my birthday and my niece's arrival, so I'm going a little apeshit. Normally, it's some kitchen gadget she wants or a gift certificate to a women's only clothing store, or if I'm really poor I'll prepare a meal that she likes, but is a pain in her ass to cook.
I love my mom and get along with her, but she has some personaily quirks. She has a "Good Intentions/Wrong Thing To Say" complex because she's an opinionated conservative and it's impossible to change her mind on anything. I'm an only child that grew up in a tough-but-fair household, one where talking back in ANY way meant death. If I were to make sense in an arguement with her, she would probably have a nervous breakdown. However, she's still a great mom and she loves her granddaughter to the end of the world. My wife is the perfect mother and she has had to withstand pretty much the ultimate litmus test with our daughter: a 3-month premature birth, as well as contracting H1N1 and RSV twice (a lethal disease in young kids). So, it's safe to say she deserves breakfast-in-bed once a year.
I adore my tiger mother for all her quirks and idiosyncrasies. Some of my favourite moments with her include: "Why only 98%?? You will not get into good school with 98%!" "Back in China, if you don't finish dinner, you get shot. In Canada, you don't get shot. That the difference between democracy and communism." "Wa, you know how you and your brother and sister always make me breakfast in bed and coffee on Mother's Day? Please don't. You make bad bad coffee." All joking apart, I love the hell out of her. My dad worked afternoons when I was growing up, so he'd leave for work at 3 and be home just after midnight. My mom kept that household going Monday to Friday, essentially on her own, until we were old enough to help out. My fondest memory, though, is all three kids piling into her bed and having her sing lullabies and tell us stories until we passed out. Then, that tiny little 5'nothing Asian lady picked every one of us up, carried us down the stairs and put us in our beds. My mom is awesome. And, in true form, I got a phone call last week. "Wa, I don't want you kids to do anything for me for Mother's Day. You guys always want to come over and make dinner. Let me make the dinner. My children are smart, but you can't cook."
Growing up I was totally a momma's boy and we had a great relationship. Things got rocky in my teens and have slowly improved since, but are still somewhat strained now. But, the bottom line is that she went through so much on behalf of me and my brother and the one thing I cannot ever doubt is that she loves me. This Sunday she's actually off on vacation so I'll be checking in on my grandmother who is deteriorating and needs someone to make sure she takes her meds and eats something. This will be a really awkward and rough time since we don't speak the same language, but it needs doing and it's her day too.
My mom is awesome. I can talk to her about anything, which is nice because my dad is super closed off. He still thinks I'm a vegetarian and that I don't drink, whereas I actually called my mom the day after I tried acid. She'll be getting a call on Sunday and a nice dinner when she comes down for my graduation in a week.
I'm kinda phoning it in this Mother's Day. I've mailed a card to her (But it's a singing card!) and I'm gonna call her on Sunday. She is gonna be spending the rest of next week in Hawaii doing an early celebration of her and my dad's 40th anniversary. So I'm able to pretty easily rationalize not being able to do much this year. I guess I might fall easily in the Mama's Boy crowd. I mean, we're not super close, but she's always done her best to stick up for me and I always try to treat her pretty well and show whatever gratitude I can for all she's done for me. But it can be a tightrope. That is, between being a good son and being Norman fucking Bates. I've seen facebook statuses of guys going to Tiffanys or some other diamond retailers to get something for their moms. Honestly, I feel creepy as all fucking hell just getting her flowers for Valentine's/Birthday/Mother's Day, plus a gift or going out to lunch/dinner. If I actually bought upscale jewelry..............Jesus, just give me ownership of a roadside motel and be done with it.
So, guess what I did this morning in Kansas. I went to the Farmer's Market and then to the specialty Olive Oil store where I purchased lemon infused olive oil and vinegar. Guess what my mom did this morning in Virginia. She went to the Farmer's Market and then to the specialty Olive Oil store where she purchased lemon infused olive oil and vinegar. Maybe we are more alike then I thought.
My mom and I have a good relationship. I love her to death and now that I'm older I can appreciate the sacrifices she and my dad made when we came to the states from Peru. I'm pretty independent, but I'll readily admit to being a mama's boy in that I'll surprise her at work and take her out to lunch, or go watch a movie with her or go grab dinner, and we just sit and chat. There are some things we disagree on, but I know she loves me unconditionally and I feel the same. Tomorrow is early morning service followed by brunch, then just tooling around the house since she likes just having the whole family just hanging out together.
What she lacked in nurturing affection she made up for in batshit crazy. She also inspired me to learn how to cook. Lord knows, she didn't. That's about as positive a spin I can put on it. My wife on the other hand is an awesome mom.
I do not have a very good relationship with my mom. She's nosy as hell and likes being judgmental. As a result, asking her a question about something turns into an interrogation about everything. And then she wonders why I don't talk to her about my personal life. On the mental illness side, she's a hoarder, despite all of her vehement protests to the contrary. My dad says that she's been like that since he got married to her. I'm currently typing this from the basement. There's about a ton and a half of junk in here - busted furniture, boxes of toys, mountains of laundry, etc. She collects paper grocery bags. Any attempt to clean up the mess provokes an extremely visceral response. She went on a trip to Arizona for a week. Dad made a joke about "Cool, we'll have it all cleaned up by the time you get back." She went off the wall and screamed for a good hour that she would kill him if he touched it. Dad has since learned to shrug and face the fact that the house is going to be messy for a long time. At least until she can face her mental illness straight on and not hide behind the "I'm too busy to clean stuff up" excuse. I joked about sending pictures of the shit in the house to A&E. This got another round of yelling. I guess it's a touchy subject. I'm actually home on leave right now, so we went out to dinner last night (Taking Mom out to dinner on Mother's Day is a recipe for misery, since everyone else is doing it).
All of the above is true for me as well. To say that I am ambivalent about today is putting it mildly. But let's look on the bright side, shall we? 1. She never burned me with cigarettes, or otherwise physically abused me. 2. She rarely, if ever, poked her nose in my business. From the age of about 6 I could wander the neighborhood and surrounding woods to my hearts content, including the dump and the abandoned iron mines.She never asked about my homework, grades, or my part time job. I could drink in my room in high school and she didn't have a clue. You call it neglect, i call it freedom. 3. Thanks to her I truly appreciate the meals i cook myself. 4. I learned how to do laundry, sew, make my own meals, scrub a floor, and generally look after myself at an early age. That has been invaluable. Thanks for not being there, Mom. You made me the man I am today.
My mommy is my favorite. True Cinderella story there, her mom died when she was very young, she had two mean half-sisters and a mean step-mother, basically spent her entire life getting shit on, but now she's married to the nicest man in the world and has everything she ever wanted. She deserves that and more after shielding me as much as possible from my dad. Lady is a champion, and she got forty roses and an omelette to go with the two other bouquets I bought in the two days leading up to Mother's Day.