Mother’s Day and blow jobs

“But you know who else deserves it?  The women who have struggled to be, or are still struggling to be moms.  The women who want children but just aren’t in a safe place in life to have them.  The women who don’t want kids and have to listen to a bunch of bullshit about how you’re only worthwhile if you’ve pushed a human out of your vagina.  The women who miss the children they once had.  The women who miss the children they lost before they ever met them.  The women who gave up their children so their child could have a better life than they could provide.  The women who were raised motherless, or with shitty mothers, or who have lost their mothers and are reminded of how alone they feel.  Mother’s Day is a confusing, weird, very-seldom-wrapped-up-with-a-nice-commercial-bow sort of day, and as for me, I salute you all – mothers or not…you’re here.  You’re alive.  You continue to survive.  You are worthwhile and wonderful.  Never forget that.” - The amazing Jenny Lawson

Whether it’s about depression, anxiety, or Mother’s Day, a woman I’ve only met once (and for 5 minutes if that) continues to tell me what I need to hear even when I don’t know I need to hear it.

——

We all know I’m not quiet about the fact that my mother died. That she made my life miserable. Or even that she’s been gone for too many years for my feelings about her to remain this unresolved…

Suffice it to say, I fucking HATE Mother’s Day.

A guy I know, a really young kid, texted me today and wished me a happy Mother’s Day. Even though he picked my brain about The Crazy frequently, I don’t think we ever talked about the choice I made to be child-free. THAT’S not really ever a topic up for discussion.

You want to know about the bipolar? About my fucked up relationship with my mother? About my weird obsession with Johnlock and the actors who fleshed out the characters so brilliantly? Even my quasi-self-harming?

Open. Book.

But kids? Not so much.

Honestly, I’d rather spend hours talking to you about why so many pr0ny fanfic writers never have their characters swallow. Seriously. (This topic REALLY bothered me this morning. Like REALLY bothered me. Ask J. I wouldn’t stop talking about it, and I’m still really curious.)

Wait. What?

How the hell did I go from being all “I hate Mother’s Day” to talking about blow jobs?

Yet another one of life’s great mysteries…

Let’s get back on track, shall we?

There’s been a couple of things going on this week that have pushed this to the forefront.

1) A’s text.

2) MKS’ post about being child-free and why it’s nobody’s fucking business.

3) The actual holiday

4) Having a recruiter tell me that the photo on this entry shouldn’t be my profile picture on LinkedIn because “it might send the wrong message”.

5) The sad fact that there are so many members of The Dead Parents Club and that the majority of them are missing their mothers today.

6) Picking up the “Wonderful Wallaby” again… which inspired this Facebook status: I’m knitting a “Wonderful Wallaby” for a little person who honestly melts my heart in a way no child has ever been able to.

7) Realizing that this July marks four years of friendship with Black Mountain Symphony, and remembering C-Rollz’ reaction when I told him kids were never going to happen.

And you know what?

I started writing this entry to talk about why being motherless and child-free on Mother’s Day sucks. (Even though I’ve got “kids”, they’re always brushed off because they’re “just” animals.)

Only to discover that I STILL don’t want to talk about it.

Blow jobs, however?

Fair game.