Growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all

It’s Mother’s Day weekend.

My mind is mostly with my cousin, whose mom was diagnosed with cancer last June and she died in September. On a Friday. At 11:11 a.m. Listening to her beloved Ozzy Osbourne from her hospice setup in my cousin’s house.

The following Tuesday, my cousin birthed her first baby.

I can’t even imagine what it’s been like to be a mother without having hers to lean on.

And I really don’t know how it feels to see her first mother’s day as a new mom but also the first as a motherless daughter.

I think of my colleague who was knee-deep in her own cancer battle when her mom died unexpectedly. This was years ago.

My colleague never had kids of her own. The whole treatment saga of it all threw her into early menopause. But she’s practically co-parented her niece for the past decade. So, that absolutely counts.

She came to mind after I saw a thread on Xitter. A lady wished a very involved auntie a happy mother’s day. A week later, the kiddo’s grandmother (and auntie’s mother) found the nice lady to say thank you for acknowledging her.

I got to thinking about how someone out there made a variety of jabs at me for not being a parent; therefore, I didn’t have any right to make any observations on anyone’s parenting skills.

Sure, let’s forget I have eyes and ears and a pretty good memory. But even factoring that out, I know what it’s like to love someone or something so hard that you would do anything in your power for them.

I’m not just talking about animals.

For saying they took the time to read, what, 25 years of my blog entires in one sitting (hey, thanks!), they don’t see the private posts. The handwritten journals. The endless to-do lists. The piles of notes from conversations and visits with medical and other personnel.

And before dipshit tries to say they know what I mean, they don’t. As ever, they are talking out of their arse and would be wise to continue to just sit on it.

(The funny thing is, said individual always felt the need to “explain” things to me, via the internet. Or should I say mansplain. In any event, I don’t owe nobody dick and that’s exactly what they get.)

In any event, I feel like I get held back because of a lack of dangly bits. And I feel like I’m completely underestimated because of a lack of legal dependents.

As if the three-ring circus I run — work, home and other assorted nonsense — isn’t fuller than all their normal “full plates” combined at times.

So I guarantee, if I have an opinion about something — eyes, ears and memory aside — I have plenty of experience being good to people. And being really fucking good at taking care of MuLtIpLe people who are not named Goddess.

So, I know about which I speak when I see otherwise.

So, wish a happy mom’s day to the aunties, the cat moms, the caregivers, the babysitters, the financial supporters and/or everyone else who stepped up to give a shit when people who should have been required by law (parents, medical personnel, etc.) to provide moral, financial or compassionate care couldn’t be arsed to do so.

Don’t wish it to me, though.

“I don’t cater to all these vipers dressed in empath’s clothing.”

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