Mothers Day is one of the most difficult days of the year for me. A sad day. A tearful day.
Sadly, my children have always lived with their Dad. Not because I didn’t want them with me, not because I have done something wrong… but because of the way that circumstances played out.
Every year, the kids will make gifts for “Mom” for ‘Mothers Day’, and each year, though they do those crafts at school, I never receive a single one.
During my many visits, I have seen some of the sweet things made to be given to me on mothers day, some of the gifts the kids had even told me about before hand, but they have never made it to me….
The simple answer … they were addressed to “Dad”.
If you are reading this and you do the same thing, and the “Mom” is still in the picture as much as possible… don’t treat her as though she is dead.
I may not live right next door, and I may not get to spend most of my time with my children, but I am here. I do all that I can with the way things are. I talk to my kids, during visits I teach them things, create crafts with them, play, color, sing to them, teach them learning songs, count to 20, count to 100, help with homework, teach them manners, morals, and how to be kind… and so on. I try to be here for them, I try to teach them new things, I try to show them how to be a good person. When I am with them, and a holiday for their Dad approaches, I make sure to have them make their Dad a card, or get something for them to give him… I remind them to call… I make sure to deliver their gift. I treat him like he is their Dad… cause he is.
I would never replace the word “Father” for “Mother”… or cross out Dad’s name to replace with mine… Never.
The first time I noticed that something meant to come to me for Mothers Day did not, it hurt. My little ones told me of what they had made for me, but it never got sent out. Then, months later, I found out why. During one of my visits, I came across the crafts they told me they had made me for Mothers Day… and I started to cry uncontrollably when on the front, the word “mother” was crossed out and replaced with “father”.
I am still here!!!!
I am not dead.
I don’t need every single mothers day activity completed since preschool, but one, or maybe two would have been nice.
Just keep this in mind.
In the big picture, this isn’t a big deal… but when it comes to the most painful things about not having my children with me as primary custodian… this is a big deal.
I am not dead, don’t act as though I am.
Actually, the irony is… if I were dead, every single one of those cards and gifts would have become memorialized… perhaps taken to my grave… never to be “seen” by me… but cried over and a big deal to the little ones giving it.
Instead, I don’t get them, or see them… as if I were dead… but not JUST dead…
dead and hated.
©bipolarmuse June 2015