Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Blue daisies

Sunday, Mother’s Day, was a strange day for me. My first Mother’s Day as a separated-soon-to-be divorced mom.

I didn’t realize how much this first Mother’s Day alone with my children would affect me. I mean, it is about being a mom, so you and your kids should suffice, right? But it just felt strange and empty and big.

There is also the fact that Mother’s Day, like most holidays, has certain traditional expectations, and I could see pretty early on that this particular Mother’s Day was not going to conform to the modern Mother’s Day ideal.

There would be no restaurant brunch, or picturesque picnic or breakfast in bed. My kids are still too young to pull this off. (And you’re right if you’re thinking that I could have planned this for myself -- I could have, but I didn’t. I didn’t know I’d feel this way -- and honestly I’ve not been very good at planning anything in advance the last couple of months).

So it was going to be different. Big deal. And anyway, I was greeted at the door with a bouquet of flowers, which everybody knows is very traditional.

Dyed blue daisies and pink carnations -- an arrangement so obviously my children’s taste it made me grin.

I decided this Mother’s Day morning was going to be spent at Costco. I figured it would be empty because all the other moms would be eating brunch or picnicking or sleeping in.

We go. We shop. We even eat the greasy pizza slices and hot dogs (okay, AND churros) and wash them all down with the berry smoothies (which definitely do not contain any real fruit).

It’s Mother’s Day, I didn’t have to make lunch, I’m with my gorgeous girls, and we’re full and happy. Feeling grateful I thank them again for my flowers.

My oldest says “You’re Welcome, Mom” and then adds that Denise helped them pick the flowers out.

“Denise?” I ask, completely surprised.

“Yeah, Denise. She went to the play at Jr. Theater with us yesterday and then we stopped on the way home to get you flowers.”

[Denise, for those of you who don’t know, is “the other woman,” the woman my husband left me for. The woman he has been seeing sporadically ever since.]

Denise helped with the flower selection? Now I wonder if she suggested the pink carnations (the ugliest flowers ever grown) and the blue daisies that have since turned the water in the vase a shade the Ty-D-Bowl man would be proud of. Is she getting some perverse satisfaction from the fact that I received a rather hideous Mother’s Day bouquet?

Surprisingly, I laugh out loud. How absurd life is. How entertaining. How ironic.

And maybe, just maybe, Denise only wanted to help my girls pick out something they’d feel proud to give their mom. Maybe it had nothing at all to do with me. Or maybe it did, maybe she wanted to make sure that I’d get something traditional this first Mother’s Day alone.

Either way, Happy Belated Mother’s Day to you, Denise. (But please, oh please, steer them toward the Gerber daisies next year!)


Dirty Pirate Hooker said...

Yeah, mother's day is a really depressing holiday for me too! My punk is only 6 and can't do anything for me either. It's sad.

I bet Denise was trying to make it up to you that she stole your husband. Whore!

Beth said...

She was probably just trying to look good in front of my soon-to-be-ex husband. But I'm feeling forgiving of late, so I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt.

As Jacquie would say, life's too short to be bitter.

Jacquie said...

Ah, Beth. What a poignant post. You'll never know what motivated Denise, but I like the way you're thinking. It really doesn't matter if she did it out of spite - the way you perceive it is your reality, and it always feels better to be positive. Way to be the Buddha! She probably thought this bouquet was classy , we already knew that she has questionable taste :)

48 hours from now we'll be at the airport!

Beth said...

You're classy comment made me laugh out loud, Jacquie. Thank you. I'm going to take that as my reality for now.

Ellie said...

What cracks me up the most is Denise -- and your soon-to-be-ex -- will always, ALWAYS get busted, because your girls are just too young to think there's anything weird about, say, the Whore (as dirty priate hooker so affectionately refers to her) picking out Mother's Day flowers for YOU.... Ah life. How ironic. How ridiculous. How absurd.

Musings from Myopia, AKA John said...

Speaking of Mother's Day, my mother always taught me not to say anything about a person if I couldn't say something nice. So I won't say a word about the prick who will soon be your ex. And I won't comment about Denise, except to say maybe she's not the one who "stole" your ex and so may not be the one bearing the bulk of the blame...but even if she did and even if she does, I won't say a thing about the slut.

Jacquie said...

You see very clearly for a myopic guy, John! Welcome back

Rita.the.bookworm said...

You don't know me, but I'll butt my big pimply nose in here anyway--

I had to laugh when I saw the bouquet. I had chosen a very similar one for myself for Mother's Day. They were just at the grocery store, called "Crazy Daisies" and they were all dyed those ridiculous colors--blue, yellow, hot pink, and I had to have them. Two. I bought two bouquets in case one wasn't big enough by itself in the vase to look like a circus on my kitchen table. But, I just love those kinds of flowers, so over-the-top frilly, like the kind that used to stop you dead in your tracks with awe when you were a kid, because that's a god-damned flower.

Which is why the pink carnation is still my favorite flower in the world. I have no class when it comes to adornment. I go with big and stinky every time. Not that I'll send away roses, but they're everyone's favorites. Carnations are so under-appreciated, but children adore them.

Anyway. All that aside, for whatever reason this Denise person chose to help your kids pick out a gift, I'd take it as you did, just a token of niceness. But, it would be hard to hear that anyway. I'd have a rough time and it seems you're handling it all with a lot of grace, and you should be proud of that.

It was a hard Mother's Day for me, too (which is why I bought my own gifts and let my kids and husband give me gifts too), because it was my first Mother's Day without a mother. These god damned holidays, they're just rough sometimes aren't they?

Beth said...

Rita, I'm sorry to hear about your mom. It must have been a rough one. It's over though, right? The first one is out of the way. (Not that you won't think of her every mother's day, but still)

And although we do not have the same taste in flowers (although I do have to agree that roses may be overdone), good for you for buying yourself two bouquets. You deserve it.

trixiemama said...

Hi long lost glad to read what's going on with all of you.

I would have to agree Beth, that you are handling the flower situation so well. I know there must be days you'd like to spit in her face or pull her hair like us girls do, but you keep those fantasies in your head.

My mother's day was strange as well. Allow me to share it because the day will be forever imbedded in my brain. I certainly won't be getting mother of the year award anytime soon--You see, the day before mother's day, I managed to watch my 10 yr. old eldest son (who happens to have disabilities and is pretty much dependent on us) eat dirt and break his nose, so I spent mother's day staring at my kids and crying, so grateful that they were all safe and sound. If I had to name this post, it would be "street sucking".

We (my three kids & three of their friends) were on our way to Houston's newest attempt at saving our planet--Discovery Green Park. After parking, we went to pay the meter, which was located about two cars up from where we parked. I pushed Lugo's wheelchair like usual, stopped at the meter, and proceeded to get my cc out and put it in machine. As I was following the computer directions to pay, I noticed Lugo rolling. The next second my brain said, "oh, rolling, will catch him". And then it was like slow motion & lightening speed at the same time=his chair rolled perfectly over the curb and he hit face first, the street sucking his upper body. And I watched it all unfold. When my brain registered what had happened, panic set in, CRAP...I immediately picked him up, chair and all, like hee-woman (is that a real super-hero?), screaming that scream I've only done once before-when we lost Isabella (daughter) at the rodeo for a minute or two, only to find she wandered a few yards away standing in front of a hamburger stand. The girl wanted a burger!

Anyway, back to story. I screamed to call 911, and witnessed some true humanity. His nose started to swell, so I asked someone to bring me ice while waiting for ambulance. I heard a reply "I have some ice in my car." And a nice girl screamed to her significant other "Well, go get it!" My best friends girls that have grown up with Lugo were with us, so everyone was pretty shaken, including his sister. Gabriel (5 yr. old brother) just kept saying "he's hurt, wow-blood, wipe his blood, he's okay." I recall my daughter looking at me for permission to accept a water or coke as a stranger offered her one. As I'm holding Lugo in my arms, I remember thinking I did my job well: never accept candy from a stranger.

The ct scan showed no bleeding or concusion=thank God! The fact that he was strapped in and the chair and him fell as a unit was good. Even though a broken nose is hard, I am very grateful this Mothers Day that it wasn't more serious. Don't know why I didn't put his brake on this time...but I will never not put it on again.

I mean it's just amazing to me that I would step in front of a moving train to save my kids, yet all I could do was watch him eat it. Damn brain! I pose a question to all: Why is it that our brain becomes paralized in our most times of need?