So, I posted the cute pix and the fun highlights of the weekend. But with my family, there's always a dirty underbelly.
My mother didn't do anything for our first Mothers' Day. I was a little sad about that, especially since she made a big fuss for my sister's first Mother's Day last year and then told me all about it. But her brother was dying, and then he died, and I understood.
This weekend at the music festival, she whipped out Father's Day cards, one for my brother-in-law, and one for her husband that she hastily made my sister sign. (Sooo tacky; her husband has been wonderful to both boys, but he's not our father, and Grandpa Father's Day cards need to be our choice.) I was hurt that she would make a public fuss over Father's Day after ignoring Mothers' Day. I checked in with my sister, and sure enough, Mom had gotten her a belated gift.
I had it out with Mom today. She was apologetic, and explained how she'd been frenetic and impulsive because of her brother's illness and death. And, you know, I understand. I guess.
But it hurts. It hurts so deeply. Even in her impulsiveness, she thought to honor my sister and her husband. Those actions came naturally. She didn't honor us for raising our hard-won baby boy (my sister has let it be known she got pregnant on the first try). She didn't honor the motherhood that, for me, is both natural, and a daily struggle against the world; or the motherhood that Co achieved after putting her body and soul through the wringer. Parenthood is beautiful in all its forms -- my sister's motherhood, my brother-in-law's fatherhood, are no less worthy and powerful because they came by it easily or because society honors their roles on a daily basis. But if Mom had to forget somebody, why us? Why the pair who already exist outside the norms of society and the legal system?
I forgive her, but it's going to be harder to forget.