UnHappy Motherless Day

Mother’s Day is one of the happiest days of the year. The weather is usually gorgeous.   Everyone gets up early to spend the day with mom.  Beautiful flowers are purchased.  Perhaps a nice brunch to really show how much you care. An appropriate champagne toast.  It’s just a great day to spend with the person you love most in life.  The person responsible for giving  you life.  Unless, of course, she’s dead.

Celebrating Mother’s Day without a mom is not as fun as it sounds.  When I had a mom, I didn’t think about it. But now, I do. All the time. Passing the card aisle in a store is unbearable.  I have no card to buy.  The Facebook posts are relentless. Oh you have a mom, a step-mom, and a grandma? I'm so freaking happy for you.  It’s just an awkward day. I only had one mom and she’s not here. Once I realized visiting the cemetery wasn’t going to bring her back, I stopped going. The day is useless to me.  I had my own kids and naively thought, this will make it easier.  It didn’t. In some ways it made it harder.  I suddenly realized how much my mom loved me.   I always knew she loved me.  She told me.  She showed me.  All the time.  But it wasn’t until I had kids of my own that I knew what that meant.

People always say they would give anything to have one more day with their mom (or other dead person).  I wouldn’t. Why bother? One day?  Not nearly enough. It would take me the entire day to catch her up on everything.  I want all those years back and about another 40 on top of that.  I want my mom there to see me graduate college, get married, have a career, have kids of my own.  I want her here to know my kids and most importantly, babysit them.  Then I want to watch her grow old.  Then she can die.  When I say so.
 

 

I can remember my mom playing a song with the lyrics, “you’ll never miss a mother’s love till she’s buried beneath the clay”. About as literal as it gets.  I hated that song.  Still do.  While it was playing she would say, play this at my funeral.  I was 12.  She wasn’t dying.  It was weird.  She would also say, when I die, bury me in a size 6 dress and slit it up the back so I can be a size 6 forever. Now that one I understood. When she really did die, neither wish was honored. 

So, once again, Mother’s Day is fast approaching.  All the commercials.  All the excitement.  I’m dreading it.  But I will get through it like I do every year.   I will drink heavily and watch the movie “Mommie Dearest”. I will open the presents that my kids made me at school that they have already showed me days before in their excitement.  I will act surprised, which is really easy to do when drunk.  I will hug and kiss and squeeze all of them so that one day when I’m dead and they are celebrating their own UnHappy Motherless Day, they’ll remember how much I loved them.  And they’ll be grateful that my funeral songs are already on my ipod under “Songs You Better Play at My Funeral”. My mom was awesome, but the least she could have done was make me a mixed taped.

This blog is dedicated to *Juan and Dat, my triangle, my DPSers, the Pills, and the Gowns. Without these people, my motherless life wouldn't be worth living.

*Some names have been changed so the people I'm talking about don't know I'm talking about them.

Till Tori and Dean Do Us Part 2

Wow. I had to let this one really settle in for a few days before I could write about it.  This is an emotional time for me, I'm not going to lie.  I don't even know where to begin.  But how about with Dean.

We learned a lot this week.  Things we weren't supposed to know about.  Things that were so private that Tori hadn't even prepared the production crew for.  It was a bombshell that only reality TV can drop. But that's Dean for ya. Just Dean being Dean. He's raw. He's so real. If he's feeling it, he needs you to feel it.  And I felt it.  When they showed a close up of that window with the crack in it? I had to hit pause and walk out of the room for a minute.  Just to catch my breath and regroup.  When I hit play, it was worse than I imagined. Dean wanted to jump out that very window.  He wanted to end it all in the midst of a nervous breakdown months ago.  I mean what are the chances of cheating on your wife and having a nervous breakdown in the same week?   When it rains, it pours. And Deano pours it on thick. Was he upset because he cheated or because he got caught? He doesn't know. He simply doesn't have an answer.  And you know what? Neither do I. I was just relieved that I'm not the only one who looks at windows and wants to jump out of them.

Oh, Liam. Poor, innocent, little, lambie, Liam.  Just trying to turn seven. The scene at the party store was poetic. That's what happens when you wait till the last minute to buy the damn party favors. Every mom will tell you. You have to get this junk in advance. You order it online. You pay triple on ebay. Whatever it takes. But you're not thinking clearly when your husband cheats on you and you spin your good fortune into a reality show. When Liam wants a Minecraft piñata and you're trying to talk him into a Minnion one, shit's gonna hit the fan. I kept thinking what would it be like if I was at a party and someone kept offering me red wine when I really wanted white? I'd throw a tantrum too. You want what you want.  I get it, Liam.

And then there's my girl Tori.  Six days in the hospital for exhaustion? Whoa, she must have been real tired. I slept for 24 hours straight once, but that's a story for another time. Who got the children off to school?  Because you know Dean was right by her side the entire time. As was the production crew, naturally. And if filming a reality show isn't enough, she has to deal with her real life in real time, as well. Selling Jason Priestley's wedding invitation at her garage sale? For five bucks? And Jason has to hear about it on the news, the ten o'clock news? I'm kinda bummed that he actually watches the news. I watch the news. It's not how I want to picture my celebs. But at least it wasn't Shannen Doherty she ticked off. Again, I like to look on the bright side. 

Yellow School Bus

One of the perks, besides losing my income and health insurance, of being an unemployed Chicago Public School (CPS) teacher is not having to go on field trips.  I always dreaded those days.  Most laypeople probably think, what a treat! A day of no teaching, out of the classroom, just laughing and frolicking with your beloved 30+ students.  But it's not that glamorous. It's actual hell.  Taking the shitshow on the road is no picnic.  It's hard enough to keep track of 30+ students in an overcrowded classroom, let alone out loose in the world.  And the parents who show up to chaperone?  I was always extremely skeptical of the dad who had nothing to do during the day but go to a museum with a bunch of 10-year-olds. It was like adding an extra student. That is, until I became that dad.

Yesterday was the first time I chaperoned a CPS field trip as a parent.  I didn't want to do it, but the circumstances warranted me going.  And honestly, I had nothing else better to do.  I was dreading it, but I'm a great mom and that's what unemployed great moms do. 

The adventure started out with me getting a call from the school asking where I was? Where am I? I'm unloading the kids from the car in the back parking lot, 5 whole minutes before school starts mind you. I was informed on field trip days you're supposed to get there a little earlier.  Info I could have used 15 minutes ago.  The yellow school bus was waiting for me in the front of the school.  Fully loaded with all the other parents and students, all smiles and ready to go.  So we board, with our heads bowed in shame. The only seat left is the very last one that's not even a real seat, it's a super weird sorta-half seat. You know the one I'm talking about. As we walked down the aisle, all I could hear in my head was "seats taken".

So we get all buckled up, because those seatbelts are really going to save your life, and we're off.  Now I am only 5 foot 3 inches tall. I do not have long legs.  But I was sandwiched into this damn seat. I can't imagine all the moms and dads who were way taller than me.

Finally, we arrive at our destination to see a riveting performance of "The Three Little Pigs". It was cute. I mean not pay actual money to see it cute. But cute. But I couldn't enjoy the show.  My mind was racing. What happens when we get back on the yellow school bus? What is the protocol? Do we automatically sit in the same seats we came in? Or do I dare take a new, bigger seat? I never had to think about this before.  I was always the one in charge. The one barking the orders. The one telling people where they could or could not sit. The way I like it.

I finally had to let it go.  It was in God's hands.  Whatever was meant to be will be.  Everything happens for a reason. It is what it is. Turns out, we get back on the bus in the same exact order we got off.  Because, naturally, we remained in a uniform, single file line the entire day. 

On the ride home, I found myself praying. Not only that we make it home alive, but that the next time I'm on a yellow school bus, it's under completely different circumstances.  I better be on my way to a concert or a baseball game.  Drunk. So drunk that I don't even realize I'm on a dreadful yellow school bus.  I want it to be full of adults only.  Everyone standing. With men using bottles to urinate in.  With women puking out the windows that only open half-way because they were so overly excited about having a night out sans kids. The way riding on a yellow school bus was meant to be.

Till Tori and Dean Do Us Part

I get excited about lots of things.  But a new reality show really does it for me.  Especially one starring Tori Spelling.  Nothing gets a debate going faster than her new show.  Everyone has an opinion.  It’s amazing.  Expecially people who don’t even know her.  I mean know her like I know her.  I follow her on FB and I’ve read all of her books and have seen every episode of 90210 and all of her Lifetime movies.  My favorite being “Mother May I Sleep With Danger”, but that’s a story for another day.  I love how people who don’t know her as well as I do get so fired up about her new show.  It’s reality.  There’s no script!  It’s not going to be pretty.  Tori’s last name is not Kardashian. 

She’s obvi fallen on some hard times.  We’ve all been there.  Dead billionaire father, rocky relationship with your mom, cheating on your spouse with someone who ends up cheating on you.  Having to get four little kids up and out of the house every morning (gasp) by yourself.  The way the one kid puked as if on queue was amazing.  She’s got a future in acting. I mean that was raw. It’s not easy to watch.  But it’s life.  Life on TV.  Tori and Dean’s life.  And I will be here, every step of the way.  With two boxes.  One filled with tissue, the other filled with wine.

I like to look on the bright side of things.  Tori has never been so thin.  Well, she has, but now that she’s 40 and has given birth 4 times, she’s never been so thin.  It’s a different thin.  One I can only dream about.  The day people start worrying about me for being too thin will be the happiest day of my life.  Even if it is because my husband cheated.  I can only hope when she looks in the mirror every morning (which by the looks of her I’m not sure she’s actually doing) I hope she is thankful for that skin and bones reflection.   

I can only imagine what the future will bring for this couple.  A spin off reality show? Hopefully. Dean beating his demons in rehab? Doubtful.  Her kids all ending up numbing the pain of their childhood with pills and booze and in therapy the rest of their lives? Guaranteed.  But all I know for certain is that I will be here every step of the way.  That’s what friends do for one another.  Whether it be tuning in live, or recording it on my DVR.  I will be here.