My niece, Lindsay celebrates her first Mother’s Day this year. Her face book post about it reminded me of the surreal way I felt on my very first Mother’s Day.

Tabitha was born April 8th and a month later on Mother’s Day morning when I came into our kitchen, my husband, Randy had put her, all dressed up and strapped in her baby carrier, in the center of our kitchen table along with a bag of Hershey kisses and a dozen red roses. Even now the memory of it evokes a blissful thrill.

It seemed so surreal to me. Mother’s Day was a holiday for mothers. A day I gave gifts, and never imagined  I would celebrate on the receiving end. Part of me was still in awe as how at the hospital they just handed over this precious intimidating creature and assumed I would know what to do with her. My qualifications were less than any teenager I ever hired to babysit my children.

Yet, somehow I’ve managed to muddle through. While I could pretend it’s my exemplary mothering skills the truth is sometimes mothering is a crap shoot, but when it comes to crap…I’ve always been lucky. Besides I’ve learned to wear rubber boots and how to shovel.

So when my son Jordan told me I didn’t know how lucky I was to have a son like him, as compared to most other 18 year olds. I pretty much told him the the reason he turned out so well was due to my exemplary mothering skills and said, “you are so lucky.”

Gosh, but it’s moments like that I really love being a mother. The chocolate cake my daughter baked me tonight for Mother’s Day doesn’t hurt either…once again she’s managed to evoke another blissful thrill.

Hope all Mother's feel as lucky as I do. Happy Mother's Day.

It’s been a year filled with emotional and sometimes turbulent life changes. I’ve been every bit the Cancer-tankerous Mommy I wrote about in the book- only this time it’s not cancer or Meds- it’s just me being my mean ole self.

My husband’s career had us in Texas last summer, but before summer had ended he was on his way to Alabama, and the kids and I back to North Carolina. We’re together, we’re just not living together- we’re a commuter family. When he’s not flying to North Carolina, I’m flying to Alabama or Florida where my parents live.

Our daughter, Tabitha graduated high school mid-semester this year, and enrolled in college. I feel fortunate; somehow I’ve managed not to run her off- yet. North Carolina State where she attends college is just a short distance, and Tabitha lives at home. She is majoring in psychology and plans to be a Psychiatrist. Not a surprise-she’s already done the research- as life with her own family isn’t always easy.

Some of my friends have confessed they couldn’t wait for their kids to leave the nest- I’m not one of them. I've been advised to enjoy the moments I have now, but I haven't taken that advice. I’ve been down right bitchy about it. My husband made the mistake of attempting to make me feel better by reminding me, in two years both children would be in college, and we could easily move to wherever his career takes him. I don’t know what he was thinking, but I was thinking it would be the first time we’d move without our kids. It didn’t make me happy!

I could pretend as a cancer survivor, I am exempt from such feelings, because I realize how lucky I am to have had these years- watch my children grow up, and grow old with the ones I love- but I would be lying.

I am grateful, to celebrate Mother’s Day this year, surrounded by my children, and with the knowledge my mother is still with me, but this year I got a glimpse of life without them, and was not prepared.

My mother, Amelia Patricia Solomon a.k.a. Granny Pat of Walnut Hill, Florida is alive, and while not completely well, is finally home after months in a hospital, and is recovering from a near fatal bout of Bacterial Meningitis diagnosed as Pneumococcal Meningitis.

I will not forget my mother looking at me, her only daughter, without recognition. Nor will I forget the the moment I knew she recognized me. In a year filled with heart wrenching good byes- what a relief when my mamma said hello.

This year I said good bye to my paternal aunt, Juanita Pacetti- a best friend, confidante and on occasion surrogate mother. High School graduation meant saying good bye to my little girl; all too soon she’s become a young woman. Faced with my mother’s life threatening illness, I was forced to say good bye to my own childish self. Abruptly, my siblings, and I were required to face facts- our parents are elderly, and we are now the grown ups.

It's been a year filled with emotional and turbulent life changes. I would like to write I have handled them with dignity, grace, and courage- but the older I get the less inclined I feel to whitewash the truth.

I’ve had to say good bye to people, places, and parts of myself that can no longer exist.
Undignified, inept, and scared is how I’ve felt much of the year.

Recently my 16 year old son, Jordan told me, (after a brief outing where I sat in the passenger seat while he drove) “You’re like one of those really old people who appear to be crazy – but it’s because they’re so old. Only you do it, and you’re not even that old- YET! You’re just crazy.”

Well at least I'm not a sissy.

One of the Mother’s Day cards I purchased this year reads- Mother’s Day Is Not For Sissies.

No, it's for women like me and the one who mothered me.

Happy Mother's Day Granny Pat!