So, you're probably like, "Aww, well that's not that bad for a 10 year old. It's kind of sweet." I guess... if you're close to your Dad. Here's the deal... I'M NOT. I was strictly a Mama's girl from the moment I took my very first breath. I hated leaving her side. I wanted to be her(I still do). I can remember the moment I turned to my Mom in the jewelry store and told her I had chosen THOSE. "Well, why though?", she asked sweetly. "I don't know? I just like them!" She took the earrings from me and paid for them without hesitation.
I don't ever remember my parents being together. They ended things when I was a baby, and my Mom raised my brother, sister and I on her own since then. My dad always paid child support. He called every morning and every night. He would come over sometimes to help with school projects or cook us dinner. I saw him a few times a week, but 99% of my upbringing was done by my Mom. My mom made sure there was a meal on the table, that we had "cool" clothes, that we always used good manners, that we were bathed and brushed, that we were mentally and physically well... you get it. SHE. DID. IT. ALL. And when I say all, I mean the negative things too. If there was a punishment to be given, it was going to be given by her. He was the good guy and she was the bad guy. When you're a kid, you don't get why. It wasn't until I was a teenager that I realized that my Mom was actually my Mom AND DAD. She is the most amazing woman I know. How she did it, I'll never know.
I remember the look on her face and the twinkle fading from her eye that day as I proudly held up those stupid earrings. I didn't realize it then, but i was just dying for his attention. I knew he'd like the earrings, and that's why I liked the earrings. We don't have a great relationship anymore, because as I got older I realized he was always more of a trophy father than a Dad. He liked to be there in the moments of glory. He liked to play with me... but he wasn't a true parent to me. Still, I love him.
A few years ago when Boy and I went to NY, I saw a shirt that had my name written all over it. It was our last day in the city and it was Mother's Day. My first Mother's Day away from my Mom. I remember walking through the city and seeing families having brunch together. People on the streets had flowers to bring to their Mom's. I was so sad to not be with her on that day. The shirt simply said:
I scooped it up & wore it home the following day. As I was walking up the front steps dragging my luggage behind me, my Mom walked out and her eyes began to twinkle as the smile on her face grew. I cried when she hugged me, thinking back on the that moment so many years ago in the jewelry store. I'm not sure she even remembers, but it haunts me.
I still wear that shirt all the time, and she still smiles everytime she sees it!