{2005} My mom’s day gift every year – you!

Where’s mine?

This was the basic theme of my life. My whole life. Especially through early sobriety. If I was going to have to give up alcohol and suffer the horrors of an alcohol-free life I was deserved of some type of compensation. After all, it wasn’t fair that I had to give up alcohol and you did not.

So I used my sober suffering as a sort of ticket to get what I wanted, when I wanted. I need time,  I need sugar, I need a meeting, I need sleep, I need space, I need freedom, I need it my way, I need to be alone. I have been less-than a sober gem over the past years. And like many of us girls, days like Mother’s Day brought about more confusion than relaxation.

Fantasy Mother’s Day (early sobriety):
You do my job for 24 hours and let me relax. This means I sleep in and you serve me. I don’t do laundry, don’t make meals, don’t change diapers, don’t clean house, don’t feed pets, don’t do dishes, don’t do discipline, don’t do any activity I deem non-mother’s day-ish.* (*BTW: Subject to change.)

Real Mother’s Day (today):
You do what your heart tells you to do. I’d like for you to ask me what I’d like, but if you do not my feelings aren’t hurt. I am not tacitly perturbed. I am focused on giving to the moms. I can do and give to them without thought of what I am to get in return. (And yes, the thought passes my mind, but I hit the delete button on it.) It’s not about what I’m getting, it’s about what I am giving—without an agenda.

So today, I rise early because I like early—I like how it feels to rise with the sun. I do the laundry, because I like the laundry done, not because I like doing it. I do it so you have clean gym clothes—and you may or may not ever thank me. I bake a cake for my mom-in-law, not because I want to be in the kitchen, but because I want her to know that I love her. I prep for dinner, not because I love chopping salad, but because I love eating salad. I give in the way that I wish to receive. And I do my best to eliminate expectations.

My gift for being a mom is the presence of my children.
My gift for being sober is my life—I get to live my life.
My kids get a mom that is present, a mom that teaches love through acting loving.

I thought I needed you to show me that you loved me. And when you didn’t love me the way I thought you should I drank.

I learned that I needed me to love me.
When I loved me I gave the best of me to you.

That is what I am entitled to on Mother’s Day.