Ducks seem to be my theme right now but this post isn’t about ducks. "God love a duck!" was something my grandmother would exclaim when she was surprised, sort of like "Holy Cow!" Tonight Abby called and without preamble announced, "I have to work until 8 on Sunday." I pondered this for a long second before I realized she was referring to Mother’s Day and indicating that her working late was a problem that could interfere with Mother’s Day. And then I thought, "Well, God love a duck!"
I’ll say something nice about the father of my children around Father’s Day, if not sooner, because he’s a good and loving father and I’m thankful for it. But from the day he woke up and announced he no longer wanted to be married (call me stupid, call me dumb but I didn’t see that one coming) he hasn’t really had much affection for me. And while he’s given the children a lot of what they need to grow on he hasn’t given them any recognition that their mother is a significant person in their lives- which is odd because I was their primary parent for most of their school years. For many years I was taking them shopping for his gifts at Christmas and Father’s Day and none of that ever came back in kind. For his birthday I would remind them that it was coming, we would bake a cake, buy and wrap presents and off they would go. A week later when my birthday came around there would be nothing. When the kids got a little older it would be awkward for them because they would be standing there empty handed, realizing too late that it was a noteworthy day. Eventually I adapted to the notion that I helped the kids recognize their father on special days but that wasn’t ever going to be reciprocal and, by and large, I stopped feeling any resentment about it all except for Mother’s Day. I have more than my fair share of slab clay bowls from art class but there was always something very painful about his unwillingness to acknowledge me, via the children, on Mother’s Day.
This is all by way of saying not poor me but God love a duck! Here we are 4 days ahead and sweet Abby calls to say she wants to celebrate Mother’s Day with me and she’s sorry her work schedule will run through dinner time. My baby is growing up and thinking of me! How wonderful is that?
Happy Mother’s Day to me.
A Mark On My Wall 
I happened to be in the right place at the right time this morning, Farmer’s Supply in Chelsea, as the chicks were delivered. This is on par with Capistrano.
About 50 of them, in perhaps four different varieties, chirp chirp chirp, loud as hell, in an oval trough with straw and heat lamps. Of course, there was one fluffy yellow one who was louder than all the rest, perched near the end, looking like Cornelius at the end of Battle for the Planet of the Apes.
Supposedly the fellows down at FS will be seeing a lot of gradeschool kids trooping through during the week now, at least til the chicks are all bought.
I really wonder what goes through men’s minds sometimes. I am very lucky in that my husband is very good about those things. I’m glad that, in spite of your ex’s thoughtlessness, your daughter realizes how special you are.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Abby sounds terrific. As for your ex, well, if I cannot say anything nice, I will say nothing!
My ex is exactly the same, but luckily, I have Dereck, and I insist that he take them shopping for me for all occasions so they will learn that it is important not just to recognize me, but the women in their lives.
Jen- you made that point in about 10 words- exactly so. It’s not about being gifted, it’s about being acknowledged. Unfortunately FG didn’t come on the scene until a couple years ago because he would have helped. 🙂
It’s weird. I have to come to realize that not all families are like mine. I have perfect, loving parents that love each other and love their kids, and we always celebrated everybodies everything. To hear of people that do not have this, or a partner that does not appreciate them (or women in general) and that spreads such evil to their children is inconceivable. I guess I’ve been spoiled. So let it be said Vicki that I have never even met you in person, and I appreciate you and all the wonderful words you share with our little blog family.
Still, not being acknowledged by the people you need it most from is like being ignored – and nothing is worse than being ignored.
The more I learn about your children, the more I admire you, Vicki!