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Mother's Day

2004-05-09

I vehemently dislike Mother�s Day. Not because I don�t wish to honor my mother; she continues to be one of the most wonderful people I know.

But I wanted to be a mother. I wanted kids. But I was careful enough not to have them outside of marriage, and when I finally wanted to I no longer had the choice.

I don�t even mind so much that I don�t have kids now. Parents spend a whole lot of time raising their children. Instead of parenting children I get to draw, read, write, sculpt, etc.

But once a year, I�m reminded. Every woman in my family is a mother. Except me. Most of the women I know are mothers. Except me. It�s like a huge club that nearly all women belong to. Except me.

Enough self pity for one day.

Started cleaning about 8:30 this morning. Quit about 10:00. Wasn�t feeling so hot, dizzy and headachy. Asked the wonderful spouse if he would do the dishes and clean the counters while I went to pick up his mom. He did and I did.

The day turned out well in spite of my feel yucky. Except that he isn�t back from taking his mom home. I am the eternal worrier. If he�s late from work by 10 minutes and I hear a siren, I�m worried that it�s him in an accident.

Of course he came home moments after I started worrying. I am totally paranoid.

I went and picked up his mom noonish. I purposely picked her up a bit early. I knew she�d want to take the tour, not that a tour of our house would take more than five minutes. But we took her out into the yard and she did the same thing I always do. She plopped herself down into one of the chairs and gazed around. She felt the same way that I do. A small, green sanctuary against the far too occupied world.

Again, I was way too paranoid. I was afraid she�d see the clutter and the dust in the corners. I needn�t have worried. She looked for the best of our small space. She wasn�t looking for flaws. I should have trusted my husband�s knowledge of her.

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