All I Want for Christmas is a Mother

This year for Christmas, I sent my mom a package with these yummy fruit and nut candies that Todd thought she'd love and a couple of games I thought she would enjoy playing with my brother, since he recently separated from his wife and moved in with our mom. I should have known better than to send her anything.

I called her this morning and asked if the package had arrived. She said that it had arrived yesterday. I asked her if she had opened it and she said, "Yes, and I tell you I was mighty disappointed. That candy is nasty; I might as well have opened a jar of jelly. And I don't even know if your brother likes card games." (One of the games was Phase 10; I thought she would like it because we grew up playing Rummy and it's similar.)

My heart sank. Why, why, why did I bother? Why do I do this to myself? Will I never learn? After 39 years of living with her special brand of evil, will I never stop seeking that motherly bond that I cannot seem to stop craving, even at this age? Even though I have a family of my own? Will I never stop allowing her to stab me in the heart?

I see other women with their loving moms...arms around each other in a warm embrace. I see the love in their eyes. I long for that. I ache for a mom to call and share things with; one who will understand and just try to comfort. Instead I get the lecturing, negative, everything is wrong in the world mother who is so very skilled at making me feel like crap. She's not the hugging type. She doesn't say, "I love you." I think I moved 2500 miles away so I wouldn't have to experience the pain in person. It's not quite as hard over the phone.

Diamonds are lovely, chocolate is divine, vacations are exciting, but all I really want is the love of a mom.



GelaSkins Inc.