Tact: A Tale of Mother's Day Past

Tact: n.  skill in not offending people

Saturday was yard sale day on base.  And if you happened to visit my sale or that of the family across the street, you may have witnessed two women hugging each other and crying.  We were chatting when the FedEx truck pulled up, delivering her flowers sent by her husband for Mother's Day.  And he is deployed.

I remember what that was like.  That the loneliness is always worse on holidays. This was her first Mother's Day with him gone, and the emotion snuck up on her.  And revisited me.

When Justin was deployed on Mother's Day five years ago, it was a turning point in my life as a mom.  That was when I ceased being someone's daughter first, but put my own needs and wants as the priority of the day.  Oh, I'd been a mom for six years by that time, but the thinking was always about our own mothers, not about me.  His mom was only miles away and my own mother was under an hour drive.  It was assumed that I would make the rounds.

I said no.

I am sure it was the way I said 'no' that was the big issue; I have never been known for my tact, a tool that was left out of my mental design and reminds me, a lot, that I am still a work in progress.  My boys wanted to be with just me on Mother's Day and spend the morning at the beach.  My mother-in-law took it well and told me to have a wonderful day with my boys.  My own mother was not as understanding.  She has a more difficult time not taking personally the decisions we make for ourselves and our family.  She was very hurt.  But I stood my ground.

Some called it selfish; I called it survival.  I just couldn't do it that day.  While I could have been more tactful with my mother, it honestly didn't matter to me at the time.  Why did I have to continually fill others needs instead of my own?  Why on this day, of all days, when I am a mother too, did I have to put someone else's emotions before my own?  And the realization hit...I didn't have to.

So I said no and to the beach I went with my six and four year old.  They splashed and played.  I wore sunglasses and cried while making sand castles, missing the man who had given me these two amazing reasons to celebrate Mother's Day.

It was perfect.  Well, as perfect as it can get while your husband is in a war zone.  And I didn't allow myself to feel the least bit guilty of not visiting the moms.  That freeing of myself to do what I wanted made me feel a bit like a rebel, but mostly an adult.  I put myself and what my family needed first.  My husband had recently undergone enemy fire...I deserved to do whatever the hell I wanted to do.  And what I wanted was a holiday where I didn't "have to" do anything or put on a smile or see anyone but my babies.  A holiday where I was allowed to miss him without having to care about ruining the day for others. A "Mother's" Day.

Saturday, as I hugged my neighbor, I used the same word only with a different spelling and meaning.  She whispered, "I miss him so much."  I replied with empathy, "I know."