[blueerica]

Yeah, I know that this one was my week, and I really should have had something to write about my mother, but when it came down to it, I didn't have it in me to write anything, and what I wanted to write was just going to take more energy than I had to give.

My mom is a special person, and no, I don't mean "special." She's smart, witty, funny, and is a compassionate soul. As I was growing up, we were friends. She talked to me about everything, even asked me for advice. I thought it was cool for a while, but ultimately, I longed for the kind of parent that would have rules for me to break. I had no guidelines, just those I made for myself. All my friends thought it was cool; I just felt put upon.

I guess that when my mom first broke the news that she was pregnant with me, my family was shocked. Of course, my father wasn't supposed to be able to have any children of his own, so there was that aspect of shock. It's just that my mom went into the marriage with my father fully understanding of the situation, and was fine with it. No one ever thought she would have kids, and most didn't think she was the mothering type. And I don't know if she really ever was.

I've had a lot of hurt with my mom, and a lot of good times. Joy and sorrow. She's seen me shine, and she's seen me at the bottom. She's probably the only one who knows what's really up, and what's really down with me. For the longest time, she didn't know that I was faking happiness, but once she learned that component, she knew me again.

I visited with my mom on mother's day. My two younger sisters were running over her when I walked through the door. Mom & I talked for a while, and when I could really see how upset she was, I sent her to relax in her bedroom, while I cracked the whip over my sisters. While it was probably fine in the 1-kid-at-a-time situation to be "friends" it probably isn't when you have two or more to handle. The twins know which buttons to push, how far they can go, and that mom just feels guilty all the time, and will cave into them, even when they're at their worst. My mom is learning to set down rules, and to draw the line with them, but it's an uphill battle. Her blood pressure is sky high. She feels sick all the time. Tight.

She's lost weight, but she works a tough job. She works the night shift as a custodian for the Santa Ana School District. She carries around a vacuum cleaner that looks something straight out of ghostbusters, and just as heavy as you might imagine it would be. She's got lines around her eyes.

My mom is beautiful, even if the wear is starting to show. I see pictures of her in her 20s and 30s, even 40s, and I think wow... I won't even ever look that good. It's hard for me to believe that she thought (and still thinks of) herself an ugly duck. I suppose that years in high school with first the brainy set, and then the druggie set doesn't exactly inspire confidence.

She's been through a lot. She makes it through, even if she thinks she's going to drop dead tomorrow. I don't think I want to be like her, but I love her. There's a lot of her that I want to take with me. She wears her heart on her sleeve, something I've only started pinning on. It's a tough road she took, filled with unpopular choices. But she's my mom, and I love her.