The day that shall not be named

So...in other news, Mother's Day sucked for me. Largely because I got the news that my estranged mother wants back into our lives after nine years, and the very thought of this makes me want to stand in the middle of my kitchen and robotically smash every dish in the house onto the floor.

Apparently she called my sister last week and told her she has, after forty three years, left our toxic religion, wants to see a doctor finally, move back to the U.S. and (possibly) get therapy. This is news we have waited all these years for, and may be the start of a whole new beginning for our family. And yet the very idea of her in my life again fills me with rage. Cue smashing of plates.

So, having two kids who are too little to know it's Mother's Day, no partner to celebrate me, everything I want to do and all childcare options closed, all my friends busy with their mothers or being celebrated by partners, no plans at all, this mysterious lunch with Former Love Interest hanging over my head the next day, and now the return of my mother looming...*smash*

I texted a friend that I wanted to break everything in the house and she quipped, "may I suggest a tarp, from experience?"

My mother emailed me asking if we could Skype. I told her I couldn't deal and thankfully she seemed to get it.

If she's sincere in her plans and follows through I'm sure we can work out our issues at some point. But right now - I'm on emotional overload and my brain is crowded. I...just can't deal. *crash*

So, Mother's Day is the worst day of the year for me. I avoided Facebook like the plague. I wanted to write a status quoting Bette Davis: "I detest cheap sentiment" but decided to not wear my private bitterness quite so publicly. Some day it will be different - the kids and I will be able to celebrate together, my mother and I may have reconciled to some extent, and hell, maybe I'll even have a nice man around to spoil me. But right now? Right now, it sucks. 

In reflecting on lunch with FLI yesterday, I am still aghast at how utterly wrong I could have been about just about everything, including how likable this person actually was. I'm really questioning my intuition, taste in men, sense of self, and judgment in general. Chalk this up to yet another really horrid, bitter experience in the love arena. Kind of thought I would be past that at my age, but I guess you never outgrow this shit, do you? 

Well, at least Craig's List Guy checks in via text every day to ask how my day is going and we have a dinner date Friday night, which can't come fast enough. I need a little pick me up right now, you know?