O Mother, Where Art Thou?

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I have a love/hate relationship with Mother's Day. While I love being a mother, I also mourn the fact that I've never had a real mother...

I have always resented the sense of entitlement that you seem to have. Like, "Hey, I gave you life, so you owe me." Guess what? Giving birth to me was NOT giving me life. Guess what else? I owe you nothing. If, by some cosmic miscalculation, I ever owed you anything, I had you paid in full many years ago. My life is the way it is now, thanks to no help from you. What I have now is only because I spent years scraping and clawing my way out of the mental garbage you had piled on me, figuring stuff out on my own, as I went. Let me tell you about real mothers...

Real mothers tell their children that they love them. In 38 years, you have never told me that you love me, not even once. I think I might have heard you tell someone else that you love me, but it was in the context of your throwing off on me,"I love her, but..." I've heard you say similar things to others about each of your children. I often wonder if, when I am dead, will you maybe stand by my coffin and whisper, "I love you." I doubt it.

Real mothers do not throw their children under the bus every chance they get. They want others to think well of their kids, They are proud of their kids. They don't gossip about them like they are just mere acquaintances. I might also add that, if any of your children turned out to be screw ups, you played the biggest part in that. Kids learn by example. You were never anything but a BAD example. You threw us to the wind, with absolutely no coping skills or tools for getting by in life. Some of us were just lucky enough to encounter decent people at random and pick up a thing or two from them.

Real mothers are also teachers. Yes, I am smart. Yes, I am talented. And you had nothing to do with that. Period. You never so much as read a book to me. Had I wanted to major in smoking, neglect, mooching, or promiscuity, you would have been an excellent instructor. How dare you now, have the ovum to want me to show up at your church's Mother Day function, so you can show me off like so trophy that you earned. No Thanks. I'll Pass. Besides, you and I both know that a month from now, you won't even be attending church.

Real mothers come to their children's aid during hard times. Why is it, that I have given birth five times, yet I have never been given a baby shower? Why is it, that you have never showed up to help out after I have given birth. You showed up all right, but you only sat in a chair asking me to bring you this or cook you that, while I could barely walk, due to just having a C-section. What the hell? You should have been taking care of me! 

Real mothers would never put a man before their children. Ever. It amazes me, when I think of the hell and terror we kids went through, all so you could get some weenie. You sat back and watched us get the piss beaten out of us for minor infractions. You watched us be forced to eat after a dog. You used our Social Security checks, money that came from our dad busting his ass for years, money that was meant to take care of US, and bought liquor for the monster, so he could go on drunk rampages and drive up and down the road, shooting into the corn field where we were hiding, where we had ran so much that we actually had black bruises on the soles of our bare feet, because we had to run with no time to grab our shoes. You watched us go hungry. You watched us go without decent clothes. You never even considered leaving that son-of-a-bitch, until he upset you, usually by laying with some other woman. But you never went through hell like we did. Thank goodness he finally drank himself to death.

Real mothers don't want their kids to feel ashamed. Why did you sit on your ass, blowing what little bit of income we had on a bunch of drunk boyfriends? You could have worked. You weren't disabled. What mother sends their kids to school in outdated clothes, from a church charity box, knowing they will be teased and tormented? What mother moves every few days, from man to man, back and forth, over and over, making the kids change schools each time? Then, puts them out on the street corner, in a strange town, before daylight, waiting for a bus with no idea what time it is supposed to show, so they can flag it down and ride to a strange new school? Even worse, you just gave us all our birth certificates and Social Security cards and we had to go to the office at these new schools and register ourselves! What mother sends her 11 and 7 year old kids into the store to spend Food Stamps, while she sits her lazy ass in the car? Of course, kids from our school would always be in there and that just gave them even more ammo to taunt us with. Had we all been suffering together, as a family, I would feel different. But that wasn't the case. You let your little kids endure all the suffering, while you enjoyed yourself. You were living the life of Riley on the sweat of our little backs.

Real mothers respect their kids love for their father. From the time Daddy found out he had cancer, you drove it home. Constantly saying, "Your daddy won't be with us much longer.", to us kids. That ripped my heart out every time I heard it. I was just seven and my Daddy was my world.  Whenever he had a good day, seemed to be making a turn for the better, you would say, "Now Roscoe, don't you get your hopes up, you know you're dying." What a bitch!  Remember when dad spent a great day with us kids at the water and got terribly sunburned. You whipped me for "wasting" your lotion on his legs?Then, not even a week after he was buried, you moved us all in with one of your drunk ass boyfriends and whipped me when he said he was my new daddy and I argued with him. I remember you saying one day that you just couldn't understand why I wasn't outside playing, when it was so pretty out. Hello Idiot! My father had just passed away, I was grieving!. Apparently a foreign concept to you.

Real mothers protect their kids from child molesters, they don't have them over to party. Remember when that 19 year old guy approached you and said he wanted to date your 11 year old daughter? Guess what? That meant he was a freaking PEDOPHILE and you should have shot him. Instead, you let him "date" your 11 year old daughter. Hell, you should have shot yourself for that. But hey, something about you, about the way you neglected your kids, made him perfectly comfortable with approaching you. SICK! SICK! SICK!

So anyway, Happy Freaking Mother's Day! 

P. S. Kiss my ass...

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