(Rated R for language. You've been warned.)
I don't spend a lot of time thinking about this. Really. But recently I had an inner monologue in which I divided my life into Scenes.
Scene I: My life before children. Clueless, wandering, discovering.
Scene II. My life as a mom. Planning, organizing, directing.
Scene III. My children are assholes.
Scene IV. TBD.
Assholes?!?!? I know. That sounds really harsh. Here's the thing. My children don't need me. They're both 20-something and married. They don't need me, so I don't hear from them.
In a few weeks, I'll be heading to Sitka, and I'm dreading the question: "How are the kids?" because, honestly, I don't know. They don't need me, I don't hear from them, so I assume they are fine.
I'm really okay with this. Either I failed miserably and raised selfish, ungrateful children; OR I was a total success as a mother and raised children who are self-sufficient and competent (which is why I don't hear from them). It's okay.
I did not hear from either of them on my birthday, which makes them both assholes. And tomorrow is Mother's Day. We'll see.
I defined myself as Mom for so long, and really did not know who I would be AFTER. How would I define myself? What would I do?
The thing is, I can do whatever the fuck I want. And AMEN to that. So Happy Mother's Day.