THE UNWANTED MOTHER

I hate Mother’s Day.

Actually, to be more accurate: I love and hate Mother’s Day.

You see, I love it from the aspect that I can show Iris how much I truly appreciate her and everything she’s done for me. 

I don’t go over the top or ridiculous in my efforts: this year involved us going to the Grace Kelly: Style Icon exhibition and having lunch in Benders.  Twas lovely.

So, even though I feel that Mother’s Day (like other ‘celebratory’ events throughout the year) has become a little commercialised, I still love to acknowledge everything Iris has done for me.

I’m lucky to have Iris as a Mum.

However, there’s the flip side to Mother’s Day.  The side that sees my depression try to take hold as I’m constantly being reminded of the fact that I’m the ‘unwanted mother’.

This is the joy of being a step-parent.

Well, for me it is, anyway.

Anyone who is not from a blended family, who has never been a party to a step-family, can never understand.  I’m sorry, but that’s a simple fact.  Unless you have stood in my shoes, you can’t even begin to comprehend what life is like.

So, I have a beautiful young girl living with me, that although demonstrates erratic displays of fucktardedness, that wants nothing more than the love of a mother that left her eleven years ago.

I can understand that life in her shoes would be difficult; she’s always coveting what she hasn’t got, and jealous of the lives that ‘normal’ families lead.  I fear that she’ll never be happy because she’s always missing that something she didn’t gain from a decent, loving and nurturing relationship with her biological mother.

However, there has always been someone here willing to fill the shoes left vacant by another’s selfishness.

Another person that has done all of the ‘mothering’.  Someone that has taken her to school, made her lunches, washed and ironed her clothes, cooked her dinner, taken her to the doctors, mended her cuts and nursed her bruises (whether physical or emotional), and stood up for her.

One that did not believe the doctors or her father, and was insistent she had appendicitis, and went against everyone’s recommendations and wishes, and took her straight to the hospital.  Lucky.

Someone who has held her whilst she cried when her real mother has hurt her; yet again.  Someone that will not let her down as other’s so flippantly have.

Someone who buys two presents, one for Iris and one for Nana Marl (Charlie’s Mum), and a couple of cards, and insists that she wrap them, write in them and give them to her grandmothers when we see them on Mother’s Day, as a personal ‘thank you’.

Someone that is disrespected, abused, lied to, stolen from, mislead and whose generosity is taken advantage of.

Someone who has offered her heart and love on a plate, only to have it thrown back in her face, because she’s not the coveted one.

Someone who has always been there as a mother, but is never seen as one.  Never wanted. 

Someone who feels the loneliness and pain of being an unwanted mother.

So as Mother’s Day rolls around, my place in the world is made very clear, and the simple blocks of chocolate (which are cheap and easy) are presented (unwrapped) along with a forced smile and a ‘I would have made you a card, because I know you love handmade cards, but I left my textas at school…’

A token effort that doesn’t even include a thank you, but does include a forced ‘Happy Mother’s Day’.

A token effort that her father has forced her to make, which to keep the peace, she has done.

When I bought tickets to the Grace Kelly exhibition, I asked Jade if she wanted to come, but her father pointed out that she had netball on that day.   No problems; just Iris and I will go.

However, if they had read the draw ahead, they would have seen there was a bye on that day: no netball. 

So when I discovered this, I asked Jade several times, would she like to come out for mother’s day and see the exhibition (because she loves fashion) and have lunch with us for Mother’s Day, she politely declined.  Several times.

She would rather stay home than spend time with me on this day, which I understand, because it’s not important to her.

However, she did do my vacuuming and baked some biscuits and a slice for the lunches for the next week to help me out, which I thought was lovely, and thanked her repeatedly for.

However, I would have forsaken that for her company.

Being the evil Wiccan that I am (rolls eyes), I believe that you cannot force anyone’s will.  You cannot make someone feel something they don’t want to.  You can’t make someone love you if they don’t want to.

You must trust in the universe, because if it’s meant to be; it will happen.

I’m trusting, and I’m waiting.  But… I don’t know what I’m waiting for…

Until then… I guess I’ll just continue to be the unwanted mother.

Peace out.