So let me ask you this, when you are sitting there typing away in your own personal blogorama do you honestly believe that anyone gives a damn what you are thinking about or what you are saying? Of course you do. Our egos force us to believe that. No matter how humble you might think you are, you still, somewhere deep down inside, want someone to read your blog and think about what you just said.
Sometimes, depending on my mood, I honestly am not thinking about someone else reading what I write. But then I bother to do spell check to make sure I haven't made any real faux pas. So I guess that is vanity in it's own way creeping in and making sure that it's readable to the general public.
Truthfully, there are often times I do not spell check before posting and should I bother to reread the post, I will invariably find mistakes. Mostly typos, but there is the occasional serious misspelling. That bugs the living shit out of me. It bothers me when I find typos and misspellings in other people's work, so why should finding it in mine be any different? It isn't, I am just as irritated by my own mistakes as I am by other people's mistakes.
So let me tell you about Mother's Day. Last year at this exact moment I was in California getting ready to attend my daughter's wedding. Saturday afternoon almost immediately after the wedding, I took off for San Diego from San Luis Obispo. I am really not sure how many miles it is from San Luis Obispo to Imperial Beach but I can tell you, that is one damn, long ass drive. I went to San Diego to spend Mother's Day with my mom. We actually had a pretty pleasant experience. That just happens to be a fairly unusual experience. Mom and me actually getting along, very odd experience, odd, but pleasant.
Now I have raised a couple of children. Am in fact in the middle of raising one now. I may not feel much like a female of the species inside, but I have to say that Mother's Day gets to me some. I am biologically female. I have/am raised/raising children. Theoretically that makes me a mother. But I am not, at least not by society's standards. I did not birth any of these children. I just raise them. Been doing that since I was 24 years old. These children have been my children. I have loved and nurtured and worked my fingers to the bone trying to make a life for them that was decent. I did that, do that, wear my self to the ground with exhaustion trying to provide a stable home environment.
What I feel like is a Dad. I always have felt like a Dad. But being a Dad is sort of like being a Mom, society still does not see me as either. So I don't get Mother's or Father's Day. Sue gives me J Day. Debbie gave me Jeanette Day. It happens on Father's Day, but as sweet a gesture as it is/was, it's still not the same. How many people who have raised children have been in the same place I am? Are there other people out there in the same place I am? I am sure there are. I have known a few myself.
Oh well, I have lived with this for over half my life. It's not going to go away anytime soon either. I am pretty sure I will die with it remaining as it always has been. It doesn't make me mad or depress me or anything. It just speaks volumes to me of this society and of being marginalized as a person for a variety of reasons. One as a parent. I am a parent. I have no idea if I am a good one, I just know I am one. Marginalized or not, I love my children with all of my being.
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