Mother’s Day has ALWAYS had joy in it for me because of this:

And it has had sorrow because of this:

And for the first time in 7 years the sting of the day doesn’t hurt quite as much.

Why?

Because my arms are full of THIS:

I can feel it coming.

It’s that time of year again.

Certainly, it’s not as difficult as September.

Nothing is as difficult as September.

But this isn’t easy.

Not by a long shot.

Every year, I try so hard to make the fall out minimal, to keep my chin up, to not pester to be cheered up and cry on people and just shut up about it as much as possible because it’s been 7 years and there is only so many times people can say they are sorry and you start getting the feeling you should just be better than you are already.

Every year I will the calendar pages to just magically pass over these difficult dates and pretend they don’t exist.

And yet, they always find me anyway.

I’ve taken to calling this month “The Triumvirate” in my head.

And it’s a doozy.

Mother’s Day: May 9th

Memorial Day: May 31st

Matthew’s Birthday: June 7th

It always sucks.

I just breathe, put one foot in front of the other and get through it the best that I can.

All without a red-headed boy who should be signing his name in crooked letters on my Mother’s Day card, getting BBQ sauce on his face from the family Memorial Day cook out, and blowing out 7 candles on a birthday cake.

I’ll never get that card.

He’ll never eat that meal.

I’ll never bake that cake.

And tonight?

That really, REALLY hurts.

*Leaving comments open on posts like this is always a bit tough. While comments and Internet hugs and loves are usually the sun in my day, please do not feel obligated to say anything. People can only say they’re sorry so many times and some of you have read many, many, MANY posts like this one. So please…it’s ok.  I know we’re loved.  xo

1. Hearing my baby snore on the phone. Or in person. Really, ANYTHING that Butterlump does is pretty much at the top of every list of things in my life that are good and non-sucky.

2. Godiva truffles. I could go into detail but I feel like this is explanation enough, really.

3. The way my pony tail swishes when I walk and how the ends brush the nape of my neck and shoulders when I wear a wide neck t-shirt. It feels awesome. And tingly. And I probably take WAY TOO MUCH PLEASURE IN IT.

4. Finding the perfect restaurant with the perfect dish that hits JUST the right spot at the perfect time.

5. Chivalry. Whether it’s being kind to a homeless person, opening car doors, being generous in an elevator or just sticking up and intervening on behalf of a strange girl you don’t know that is getting her face chewed off by a livid weenie-weenie-weeniehead at an airport because she might have ACCIDENTALLY been tripped by a little kid and doused his designer shirt with Diet Coke and chili dog.

6. Yummy cocktails that do not taste icky, like battery acid, or like gasoline. In other words, cocktails or that taste like they don’t have liquor in them. And if it is just straight liquor it had better be about half as old as I am to avoid hacking, coughing and sputtering out a horse, gasping “SMOOTH” statement. What can I say? I’m a newbie and UTTER lightweight. Embarrassing (and that aspect would be on the “things that DO suck” but there it is.)

7. Driving fast (preferably in a car that doesn’t make a Yugo look fast and smooth) on the freeway with the windows rolled down and the music blasting.

8. Being comfortable in all forms; whether it be some really soft fabric against your body or getting more comfortable in your own skin, or getting epiphanies and being ok with what that means, or knowing that a relationship can work it’s way through moments of high discomfort and AWKWARD and find its way back to feeling like a well-worn pair of jeans again. Comfort is key to survival, yo.

9. The smell of leather upholstery. And a perfect, warm breeze swirling around me. And the smell of new sheets. And jasmine. And freshly washed hair. And cigar and cigarette smoke. (I know, I know. But although I don’t smoke, I dig it.)

10. Going out with friends when I feel stressed and tired. And having a well-meaning stranger comment on the fact that I look like road kill. And deciding to lighten the mood and tell them it’s because I have 7 children at home. And that it includes a set of triplets. And that my husband and I named them all after the colors of the rainbow. And their response being the cherry on the top of the sundae when they raise their eyebrows and say, “DAMN!!!! Can’t y’all just buy a 52 inch television and watch TV instead or something??!!”

P.S. I don’t really have 7 children.

P.P.S. Nor are they named after the colors of the rainbow.

P.P.P.S. But if I did, their names would RULE. In fact, let’s name my imaginary rainbow children RIGHT NOW, shall we??? :)
(Red) Crimson
(Orange) Sienna
(Yellow) Jonquil (Or Buttercup. I loves me some Princess Bride, I do.)
(Green) Kelly
(Blue) Azure
(Indigo) Emily (I know, I know…but Emily Saliers is in the group The Indigo Girls. Does that count? :)
(Purple) Violet

P.P.P.P.S. Yeah, I also know, they’re all girl names.

P.P.P.P.P.S. But I have all boys right now.

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. AND as I have the only single chromosome husband in the history of the world, it’s likely to stay that way.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. So…MY fictional rainbow family, MY gender selection, AND I WANT TO BY RUFFLE-BUTT UNDERWEAR AND TUTUS AND CUTE LITTLE GIRL SHOES IF ONLY IT IS IN MY HEAD FOR FICTIONAL RAINBOW NAMED CHILDREN, SO PPPPPFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTHHHHHH!!!!!

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. And I also realize that that last thing was probably way, WAY less sucky and way, WAY more hilarious to me than the people I was with.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I know, I know.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. You can’t take me anywhere.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. :)

What doesn’t suck for you? :)