My Side of the Picture

Mother’s Day has always been complicated for me. When I was a kid my Dad declared Mother’s Day a ‘made up’ holiday and refused to let us celebrate it. We used pick flowers and give them to Moma, make her Mothers’ day cards and give them to her secretly. He wasn’t trying to be an ass, his was a political belief about consumerism. But a 10 year-old doesn’t understand that, she only understands that celebrating your mother has to be done in secret.

Then there’s the fact that my mom and I didn’t get along very well. There was a lot of anger for a lot of years. And then she was gone.

For 20 years I chose not to have kids; wrong time, wrong guy, all sorts of valid reasons. When I finally did decide it was time I discovered I had cancer … So had that instead.

Then I met and married a man with four kids and although for a brief time they accepted and loved me, their bio mothers’ jealousy and bile eventually drove them away. I don’t blame them, of course they chose their mom.

All this adds up to is that motherhood is not simple for me. It’s a place of loss, constant loss. I feel like a mother and like an imposter too.

I can’t wish my life were different, there is too much that’s good in my life to want to undo my past and grab at an unknowable alternative timeline. All I can say though is if you want to be a mother* then make it happen. Stop worrying about it’s not the right time or money or what society wants. None of those things really matter at the end of the day.

* or an artist, musician, dancer, poet, scientist, doctor… Creation of any kind, really.

For the past few years I’ve had this recurring dream. What if Papa was still alive? He would be impossible to live with — the state of politics and journalism — every night he would be yelling at the television, shaking his fist at it. And every day he would be blogging about what he thought and felt about the state of everything. (God I wish I could read that blog, it would be incendiary and thought-provoking and funny!)

Its taken me a long time to realize that I’m the one who really needs to write about the state of everything, and its about time I stopped pretending its my Dad who’s the one shaking his hand and yelling at the TV night after night. Will I be funny or smart or even readable? Time will tell.

As to who I am? I’m cis-gendered white female of middle years, moderate education, above-average intelligence (which isn’t really saying that much) who is fond of cats, books, science and theater. I’ve lived on both coasts, but not in the middle.

If you’re wondering about my title and tag line, both are sort of stolen. My dad had an editorial column in the White Center News/West Seattle Herald in the 60s and 70s and 80s called “The Other Side of the Picture” where he wrote about whatever took his fancy. Well this is my side of that same picture.

As to the tag line, its a quote from an infamous woman named Lola Montez (real name Betsy James) who lived in the 19th Century. She was a divorcee, a famous dancer, courtesan and bad bad woman who made and lost fortunes, seduced famous men and princes and generally raised hell. As mottoes go, you could do worse.