Mother’s Day got me thinking. . . I almost posted all of this in the forums. Then I realized most people there couldn’t give two shits about anything more than my titties. So I decided to let it all out in this entry. Kind of fragmented, but I’d rather let it all out raw and real instead of polishing it up. This isn’t meant to be an essay.
My Mother has Bipolar Disorder. The good and bad memories of my childhood are probably tallied up about equal at this point. Not that every negative event points to my Mom, and I won’t bother to explain any of that. I’ve learned to let go of the bad stuff, and I’ve come to the realization that my Mother is an amazing woman.
Some of my fondest memories include her purposely plowing into road cones on several occasions to blow off steam. Another fun regular activity was creating filthy and immature song parody’s with my Sister and I. We were always encouraged to express ourselves, and she rarely turned to censorship. Mom also has a thing for vandalization, petty theft, and disorderly conduct. Part of me suspects it’s her way of getting back at the world for dealing her out such a dubious hand. The mania likely has something to do with it as well.
She would take on God himself if she thought he wronged her children. She’s a Mother bear, and I’ve watched her physically assault full grown men over the safety of her own. I’m a lot like my Mom in that aspect. We’re both very emotionally driven.
My Mother always made sure we had awesome birthday celebrations when we were kids. There was always cake and decorations, roller rink parties, pizza parties, sleep overs, amusement parks, arcades etc. She ran up debt and ruined her credit to make sure we were dressed well, so we wouldn’t be teased in school. I was never without a new wardrobe for the school year, even though we couldn’t quite afford it.
My Mom always made sure to include our friends in everything. She’d take us to the movies, shopping, out to lunch, and on weekend trips pretty regularly. If one of my friends was without spending money, she would treat them equal to her children so they wouldn’t feel left out. I remember her buying one of my Jr. High school friends a new puppy, after his dog was hit by a car. She had to finance the payments, but that’s just how big of a heart my Mother has. She would blow her entire paycheck to make sure we had a good time. Mom was always great at creating the perfect escape from the harshness of reality.
She planned arts and crafts type projects for us to work on. Like sock puppets, paper-mâché snakes, and egg people. A Christmas never went by without cookie decorating parties. Instead of paint by number kits, we were given drawing tablets and charcoal, paints and canvas. And she was always impressed by my random tootsie roll penis and titty sculptures.
She drives my Sister to her classes everyday, because she doesn’t want to live on campus. My Sister doesn’t have a license or car to drive yet at 19. That might sound like she’s babying her, but you have to consider that my Sister cannot walk due to a spinal cord injury. So getting her license is taking a bit longer than it does for most kids.
And if none of that sounds good, she just brought me home made cappuccino brownies, tortellini salad, and chicken for no reason. lol She’s an amazing cook. She contributed to my gluttony, but hey. . . it was out of love and good intentions. She’s sacrificed her whole life to her children. Not all Mothers live for their kids, even though having a child should entitle you to do so.
As I grow older, I realize that my family is the only part of my life I can truly count on. I no longer blame them for the wrong in my life. I’ve grown beyond any damage done to me as a child. It feels good.