Mother’s Day can be a mixed bag for me.
My whole blogging experience started out with trying to sort out the anger I had with my mother, trying to heal a lot of inner wounds and self-loathing from past emotional rape and other traumatic experiences. It didn’t help much that HER mother was also part of the dysfunctionally tangled web that was much of my childhood.
I had to set some of that aside when my mother was diagnosed with Parkinson’s.
That said, I must give credit where credit is due. I was born and bred to be domestic. My mother (and my grandmother) taught me a lot of skills as such that have served me very, very well. I suppose this was easier to impart as I was the only male child. I know it sparks a small amount of envy at times: I’ve said that I like certain chores very much (vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom, etc.) and some women (who have usually bemoaned their own husband’s lack of enthusiasm) will jokingly ask me to come do those chores for them. Cimmorene is usually quick to snap back with something to the effect of: “You can’t have him, he’s mine!”
Things got better when I married Cimmorene. I’ll put it this way: I am not wont to tell mother-in-law jokes. My mother-in-law still has a few idiosyncrasies that drive me crazy, but generally, I get along much better with my mother-in-law than I do my own mother.
And then there’s my other grandmother- my father’s mother. I was devastated when she died, shortly before Princess was born. She seemed to be the only woman for a long time that truly understood me. (Needless to say, she was the first family member I introduced Cimmorene to.) She died after a battle with Alzheimer’s and dementia.
This is something that my maternal grandmother is dealing with now. I’m still not sure if my mother is ready to deal with the full implications of that. She is with her, my grandfather, and my father now for Mother’s Day weekend. She called me back a hour or so ago to ask me if there were any cookbooks I wanted– part of their trip was to meet with an estate Realtor to get the house and some of the furnishings sold.
Now, my writing skills tell me it’s very awkward to end here. But then a gut part of me says that should sum up my feelings perfectly well.