For years I tried to distance myself from my less than stellar childhood, less than motherly mother and everything that occured in-between. The older I got, the more I somehow felt that I had to make amends or at least try to establish a semblance of a relationship with my mother. I'm not really sure if these were noble intentions or just blind stupidity on my part. You can't undo the past, nor can you make folks see the error of their ways. It just doesn't work.

I guess I finally woke up and smelled the coffee the one day the year that is supposedly in honor of thy mother (however commercially contrived it may really be). I sent the obligatory flowers and followed up with a phone call at 9:30 am. My thinking of course, it's way early in the morning and she will be sober. We can have a conversation. Or so I thought. All it took was for her to pick up the receiver and say "Hello" followed by screeches of delight and I realized: she was already soused. 9:30 am. I can't say that I was particularly stunned or shocked. I will say that it marked the end of the line for me.

The conversation that followed can only be described as a struggle; mine to keep things on an even keel and hers not to slur her words too terribly. It was moot. The conversation turned to old wounds, accusations and sparring unlike anything I have participated in since divorcing my husband. I took to my soapbox and declared that I would sever this once and for all. I don't think she believed me. Matters not.

If you take into consideration that my own teenage son somehow overslept Mother's Day (he didn't roll into consciousness until almost 3 pm) I was rather depressed that day. My solution? Drown myself in a round of good ole German Becks. What a hypocrite I am.

It's taken me all week to digest all of this. While my brother is completely on my side since he disowned my mother years ago, my sister on the other hand still has it somehow in her to keep her relationship going. I'm not sure how she does it nor am I really interested in learning.

Strangely enough I ran across some article by Oprah today (I never, ever watch her show!) that one should let go of the pre-conceived notions of what a mother should be. Or at least what my mother was, is or should be. I am for all intents and purposes now an orphan. Then again, I think I have been since I was a little and just never wanted to face the truth.

Should I be mourning now?