Birthday Wishes That Bite My Butt

Theme song: Dreams

Last week I wrote about birthdays and anniversaries at the suggestion of Los Gatos Girl, who has been going through a lot.

I thought, no prob. I know all about grief. You might even call me an expert, ha, ha, ha!

To be fair, I shed a few tears writing that post about the sad, sad anniversaries I've lived through. But, I thought, I'm over it!

Not So Fast Colibrí

What I failed to take into consideration was that a fresher, sharper grief was just around the corner, waiting for me. And that's how grief is. It waits for you. It takes its time. No need to hurry.

And so it came to pass that this weekend my younger son celebrated his 9th birthday.

That's cool. I can herd 9 year-olds with the best of them. Besides, his father, with whom I get along so well, was doing most of the organizing.

Really, though, I should have known. The signs were there. The whole previous week I was exhausted and grumpy and felt fat and broken out. That's a pretty sure sign one of two things is going to happen: I will get my period or I am trying not to be sad and will have to face my feelings.

I get to the children's father's house (on time!). I am a guest in his home. I am a guest in the home of a man with whom I made love in order to have children. So, I ask to use the restroom.

Hanging in the bathroom, I see this:

People, I hadn't seen that photo in a long time.

Look at that perfect little family. See how the little boys' fists curl around their parents hands and shoulders? See the trust, love and happiness shining from their eyes? Well, maybe not the little one. He is still a bit of a lump (but at least he's looking at the camera, cute as a button!).

The caption should read, This is What You Didn't Get.

This image represents The Dream for me. You know, the one that was really a house of cards. The one that was meant to die or, even if it was not meant to die, it's gone now. Water, as it were, under the bridge.

Here's the thing, Los Gatos Girl. Last week I wrote as if my grief was a thing of the past. And, in a way, it is. But did I or did I not come home from the birthday party and sob (in Laura's arms, mind you. Sorry about that, Laura) for, let's say, an hour?

Why? Because I loved my marriage, I wanted my children to have a happy (unbroken!) home and because, yes, it's hard to be a single mom. It's hard to say, "Nice party, Jonjo. Catch ya on the flip side" and turn around and walk away, shoulders squared.

I chuckle because I know, too, that the married/partnered moms are saying, "Girl, you are so very, very lucky to get to walk away and have an evening to yourself after a birthday party full of 9 year-old boys!"

Life is, I know, six of one and half dozen of the other. Give me a break! We're talking about my broken dreams here, not your irritating nuclear family life -- though there's plenty of heartbreak to be had there, I know. I lived it, too. (And, if anyone wants me to, just shout. I'll blog about it for sure.)

I digress.

The irony is, I tossed off that post last week with not much of a whimper and then, I got to feel the grief of my own lost dream come screaming back at me -- as a result of a birthday no less.

Los Gatos Girl, I know it's real! I found myself on my knees last weekend and I thought of you.

Your Turn

Have you ever agreed with yourself only to then get a bite on the butt that lets you know just how much you really do agree with yourself? Share with us in the comments!