If you can't say something nice, at least make it funny!

Thanks for visiting Tinfoil Magnolia, a blog about my life, times, marriage, friendships and all the strange things that happen to me and with me. I hope you find something here that will encourage you, inspire you or at the least entertain you. And if it doesn't today, check back tomorrow because, my life? honestly...

Monday, May 10

Mixed Feelings and Mixed Drinks

I have been remiss in holding to my original intention of posting a mom-inspired something or other in honor of Mother's Day, which was yesterday. I have truly mixed emotions about the holiday, not being a mom myself, it really means very little to me. But I know it is important to recognize and love my mom for everything she has given me, done for me, and everything else. I make an attempt to do this all through the year but I realize that not everyone does, so I guess it is only natural to "force" people to observe mom's day as Hallmark sees fit. (See where my angst comes from).

Anyway, since hubs and I have moved back to our hometown, I get to see my mom as much as I want, or as much as she wants depending on how much I resist on any given day. I feel very fortunate now that she's in her mid-70's that I am this close. I know I express frustration with her occasionally, and all the stories are true though as with any good storyteller maybe dramatized a bit for comic effect. Despite all that, I really do love my mom. She and I are nothing alike...nothing. But when things go wrong, or things go right, she is the first one I think of. 

My mom would have had 10 kids if she could have. She grew up in a very large family in rural Kentucky. As 2nd oldest, she was responsible to help take care of the younger kids. (I think 6 in all?) When she married my dad they wanted kids right away, but it didn't happen. And it kept not happening. Finally, she thought she was pregnant only to discover that she had a grapefruit sized tumor, the removal of which would prevent her from ever having kids. Though she doesn't talk about it much, I am sure this must have broken her heart. After another long wait, approvals, lists, visits, etc. I was adopted at birth in Louisville KY when my mom was 32 and my dad 39. Three years later they adopted my brother at 6 months old.

I am sure that it was enormously disappointing to her to have to go through so much trouble for something she wanted so badly. But she never treated us (or thought of us) as anything but her own flesh and blood. I sometimes wonder about my family's medical history and she recites hers and her family's without thinking that I am not related to them. To me, growing up adopted was not a big deal, but it also wasn't something you told everyone about. My mom is dark, having a bit of Cherokee Indian blood in her, with dark hair and eyes. I have red hair, light skin and freckles. Fortunately, though, my dad is of Irish descent so everyone assumed I take after him. I think it made it easier for them never to have to answer questions.

As an adult looking back though, I continually ponder the questions of nature and nurture. Although I was raised by these people, I couldn't be any more different from them. From my occupation to my activities and beliefs to my personality. The more I find myself the more I leave pieces of them behind. Most people do this in their 20's however it has taken me until now to understand that. I know my mom loves me and she is proud of me, however I also know that my life hasn't turned out how she would have planned and I am sure that is hard for her. Although I have a good career and a wonderful husband and have lived a stable life she still only sees that I don't follow her religion, I don't have the occupation she would like, and I didn't produce any grandchildren for her. I wish I had a mom who would go out shopping and to the movies, and have a glass of wine with dinner. She wishes she had a daughter who had 3 kids, didn't drink, and taught Sunday school. We each had different role models for what motherhood should be. She had Donna Reed, I had Roseanne. But we still try to understand each other, though it is hard some days. We spend time together and now that I am so close, I go home when it gets too overwhelming. And then she pulls up in the driveway and honks for me at 6:30am.  

So this is why I have mixed feelings about celebrating Mother's Day. But one thing is for sure....I love you, Mom. Now, where did I leave my drink?

 You have been a wonderful mother to me and my brother and I will love you forever for it.

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