A one with thirty zeros is one nonillion. I Googled it.
So, Mother's Day this year marked about a year and a half that the Wells boys and I have lived together.
I went to church by myself, which is always an emotional rollercoaster for me. So that's the baseline. An emotional rollercoaster is where we're starting. Then the pastor starts his welcome with this: "We want to acknowledge that while Mother's Day is a celebration for many, it's very difficult for some. Some of you who desire to be a mother haven't been able to, be it through suffering miscarriages, infertility, or just life circumstances. We want to acknowledge your grief and let you know that we love you, and we're here for you."
Stick a fork in me, I'm done.
This was as I was looking through the church bulletin on summer camps for the boys, so...impeccable timing.
Of course there wouldn't be breakfast in bed or snuggles or a dedicated school function. I mean, the boys weren't even at our house for Mother's Day. But eternally hopeful...
It would be so amazing if I got a text, if I got a photo, if I got a card, if, if, if...
Alas, none of that happened.
So I had some tough love with myself - Angela, you're not a mother. [Gulp. Let's try a spoonful of sugar with that.]
You know the boys love you. They're 13 and 9. They're children. And they're boys. You can't expect them to reach out to you on their own. None of the Wells boys are big on grand celebrations and fusses. They're not trying to hurt your feelings. The silence doesn't mean that they don't regard you. They've just not been taught to be outgoing in that way.
Then I kind of pushed it into a corner.
That night, my re-found friend Rita texted me, "Happy Mother's Day, Angela! I hope you were celebrated!" and I got a touch emotional again.
New day. Maybe next year will be a little better.
The next day, J picked up the boys to stay with us for the week. The four of us hung out in the kitchen just visiting, everyone sitting on a different counter. Alex hops down and runs to his room saying he has a surprise for me.
A handmade Mother's Day card. For me. And the hugest hug where I almost squeezed the life out of him.
So...best Mother's Day ever.
