Saturday, May 7, 2011

Mother's Day. Happier Please.



So. I've been told I'm a holiday ho. And not the whole santa laugh either. But, I require holidays. Period. I celebrate them. Hard. And I fall hard when they're empty.

So, now that we've met...

Mother's day is, well, upon us (ok, its tomorrow). And I'm happy/sad/anxious/overdoing it with the whole thing, yes, already. But (yes, there'll be plenty of buts) it's a decently important holiday... though I acknowledge , that I have a problem, so I'll need to say this in hushed tones.

I don't think I need to change. I mean there are plenty of other news outlets out there that get off (way off, nasty style) on bad news, and I'm sure going overboard for valentines day (think 17 elaborate gifts for a cubby full of toddlers), and what isn't worth celebrating more than earth-day?! Three kings day?! Sheep Shearing Saturday? Err... the second coming of my 26 and a half birthday?! I like to think I find the god in small things. And god is so embedded in celebrations.

Obvious bias: I like to find things to celebrate. I can celebrate (and nearly do) ey'thing.

When I was a kid, my mom always got me "surprises". I'm talking before her strangely assembled bags of random items, but one, maybe two desired gifts inside. A pinwheel. One or two Andees. The Do the Right Thang VHS (no comment). But things I wanted and that were in fact surprising. It's genetic you know, even Zora's second favorite (or most used word) besides no of course, is SURPRISE.

But I realize not all folks have it in them to celebrate. That, as I said in my last post, some celebrations just don't make sense considering context, relationship; reality. And I get that. I understand.

Even how I approach wanting to get to happy is likely a lot (hi Brian), and so, I get that too.

I understand.

And I will continue to hunt for happy, for celebratory, for mother's day and evacuation day alike, cause thats who and where I am.

Mazal tov and #Kanyeshrug


Wednesday, May 4, 2011

It's (darn-near) Mother's Day. Holla at me now.

At a recent monthly meeting that I manage (the same meeting I call from the heartbreaking comfort of my bed big-scary-monstah-meeting), my awesome co-chair began the ice-breaker.

Now, before anyone e-frowns, I’m all about ice-breakers, on-boardings, and any other hyphenated collaboration of creativity and wit to a burdensome process. I am however not as clutch with the icebreakers, and so dear colleague began:

“As we are approaching mother’s day, this is a good opportunity to share what about our own mothers have we inherited, gained, or what about the relationship has supported who we are today

See. I couldn’t have done that. And so dear colleague shares fun and poignant story. I go next, nearly reciting verbatim my previous blog entry about my 2 year old and Mummi. A few coworkers others share. It’s really some-kinda-gorgeous the variety we get.

But one person doesn’t share. And she doesn’t have to. And I feel terrible that she’s on the spot. And I feel good that she says what she does “I’ll pass.” She was and is entitled to do so.

Holidays can be hard. Before my blog-days my own were decently shitty. I was very lonely sometimes, and other times not so much, but annoyed at the expectation. Hurt by the expectation. All kinds of crap by the expectation.

And even now that I’m less annoyed and more joyous to the point of bubbling over, my story isn’t exactly what folks may have had in mind when discussing mother’s day… I mean, it started with “As many of you know, or well, know now, my mom has a mental illness and it characterized how I grew up. It impacted our reality…” and my ending that my own two year old gets the true version of Nana having a certain kind of day post-episode wasn’t exactly what they wanted to conclude with. #Kanyeshrug I've said this before, but we are as we are made.

Ultimately, what folks can’t say (in general) with the same level of pride I can (most days) is that: I have the onliest Mama who wore mink coats (from who knows where) to the grocery when we bought spam in the lean-late-80s.So, well, holla at me now.

That, and of course: if you celebrate it, if you beleive it in, if it works for you and yours: HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!