the bitter, the sweet, the laughter…

Warning: This post contains bad words.  If you’re easily offended, please stop reading NOW.

I lost my Mother in 2007.  Every Mother’s Day since has brought with it a mixed bag of emotions.  If you haven’t read that post, click the link and read it.  It’s good.

This year is not different.  I WANT to feel nothing but joy on this day.  I WANT to spend every single second of the day embracing the joys of mothering the children I get to spend my day with. I want to sing and dance and skip down the street over the fact that my children signed me up for a writer’s retreat (that will give me a few days off from mothering-Yippee!)  at God’s Whisper Farm.  But my wants have learned to walk alongside my grief.

Immediately upon waking this morning I shed tears for the woman on the other side of the world who gave birth to the precious girl I get to mother.  Our baby girl walked into our room this morning and yelled out,  “Happy Birth…  Mother’s Day!”  Yes, Baby Girl.  I also hope your birth mother is having a happy day.

At brunch I looked around and shed a few more tears over the little old ladies that my mother would never be.  Never growing old is truly a tragedy.

And after the little old ladies, I choked back a few more tears as I thought of my firstborn who is away at college.  And then my two babies who never made it into this world.  I miss them.

And then, laughter.

Our dear, dear Seth rode to church and to brunch with our friend Kim.  Seth is thirteen, has high-functioning autism, is home-schooled, and has a penchant for using new vocabulary inappropriately.  While stopped at a gas station, he looked over and saw two guys with long hair and said, “What a bunch of pussies!”  Kim asked him if he thought that was appropriate and he said, “Well, if they’re going to dress like that they should know people are going to call them pussies.”  After Kim shared with us and before I could explain to him what that word means and how inappropriate it is to use, our seventeen year old realized that he was scraping a spot off of his shirt and said, “Oh, gosh.  Our whole family really is a bit autistic.”  To which Seth added, “Yeah, we’re all just a bunch of pricks.”

I explained what the words meant.

He nearly died of embarrassment over the discussion of anatomy.

We all laughed.  Really hard.

Today is bitter.  It is sweet.  And by the grace of God, it is filled with laughter.

P.S.  We’re looking for a new vocabulary teacher at the Calvaresi Academy.  If interested, please apply in comments. 😉



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