PSA

As you may know, I’ve been spending time over the last several weeks moving my downloaded MySpaz blogs here, to my fabulous new blog site. What I didn’t realize is that anyone subscribed to this blog is getting a notification every time I posted one, even though I thought I was being terribly clever in backdating them to their original post dates. So, if you’ve been spammed by emails and/or WordPress notifications that I’m posting a million blogs a day: close your eyes, breathe deep, and I promise it will all be over soon.

The Real Topic

So, as I’ve been moving aforementioned blogs over here, I’ve noticed a recurring theme that has to do with my mom.

If you’ve read any of my older blogs, particularly any of my Mother’s Day blogs or the 100 Miles series, you will have noticed a markedly up and down relationship with my mom.

It’s true, we haven’t always gotten along.

I have, over the years, felt distant from her: angry, neglected, ignored, unsupported. Pretty sure I’m not the only daughter in the history of the universe to feel this way about her mother.

The thing is, since I wrote those blogs and had those experiences, both my mom and I have worked a lot harder to get closer. I’m not saying that everything is perfect, or that I won’t carry some small seed of resentment in my heart, or wishes for a different history…but let’s face it, my mom and me: we’re doing the best we can with what we’ve got.

Having a son that is approaching full-on-teenager-hood has put a lot of things in perspective for me, mother-wise. Parenting is not easy. And my kid, Godblessit, has inherited the 2N gene that is specifically responsible for driving the parental units up the wall. Having a kid that wants to do whatever (s)he wants to do is not an easy chore to manage.

All of this means that I’ve been blessed with a new perspective on what it must have been like for my mom, with a headstrong (can I get a what-what?!) daughter hell-bent on doing her own thing, in her own way, no matter what…and watching that selfsame daughter crash and burn in a spectacular fashion that I can only describe as Hiroshima-style. Thinking what I would do if my son were in similar situations…it would be so hard. Really, really hard.

The reality is, I’ve got the mom I’ve got, and the Kid has the awesomely flawed mom he’s got, and he (and I) basically just need to live with it and do the best we can. There’s no doubt that my son is the most important thing in my life, and I believe that my mom’s kids are the most important thing in her life. I think sometimes we just forget to let each other know that we love each other…even despite (or maybe sometimes even because of) the shit we put each other through on a daily basis.

We all make mistakes. We all completely fuck it up from time to time. I think it’s what we choose to learn from and do with those mistakes that define who we are and who we want to be.

So this is a feel-good blog about my mom. Finally.

I love you, mom.