Mother’s Day….

My Mother’s Day ended wonderfully, but it started out in terror. The night before this incredible pressure came on me and I felt it physically. It attacked my mind. It reminded that another Mother’s Day is passing and I am still unable to take care of my kids. It spoke about my crushes an how non reciprocal they are. It reminded me about the fact that I’m almost 30 and I have nothing to show for my life efforts. It beat me down so much that I could not wake up. I felt like my presence was no longer needed in this world. I somehow got up and got dressed and went to work. I went there and my eyes were shining from crying in the car knowing the gas light is on and I have about 20 pennies in my car and I’m hungry as hell but as long as I made it to Denny’s…I can eat and make some money. So thankful. So when I got to work I was feeling so ughh….I ordered some food and walked around, smacking myself in the face, trying to bring some life back. Table after table my mood improved. Taking the focus off of myself and putting it on taking great care of others really did the trick. I was feeling good by the time the sun rose, even though it was PROM night so the restaurant was filled with hungry teenagers who DO NOT tip. ~sigh~   They looked beautiful though.   By the time 7am rolled around, I was all pepped up, taking last minute tables. The other waitress would whisper to me, “Two just walked in. Light skinned. Dreads. Both of them.”   “Hmm..Okay. I got this,” I’d say. And they always tip me very well…   When I went to pick up my boys I was feeling good but tired. My feet were throbbing but it’s Mother’s Day so we can manage. My boys acted up at the damn breakfast buffet. I was like, “Stop fighting. Stop throwing that. Stop crying.” The whole time. I was so mad that I started crying in the car on the way home. When we got there my 8 year old said, “Sorry we couldn’t get you anything for Mother’s Day, Mommy.” “That’s okay. But you really are giving me a gift just by being here. If you weren’t here, I wouldn’t be able to celebrate Mother’s Day. It’s all because of you, baby.” “And we’re sorry we were acting up in the buffet, Mommy,” my 6 year old whispers and gives me a hug. “And I’m sorry that I started crying in the car. I’m just tired. So tired. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Let me lay down. Please be quiet so I can take a nap.” But I couldn’t sleep because I only have a room so they were playing Go Fish, watching iCarly and wrestling. And I was so hot. Around 2pm I got up, showered and we drove to my Mama’s house. I wasn’t really in the mood but I know she wanted to see my boys. And when I went over there, the sweet smell of fried chicken and black and milds invaded my nostrils and I sighed. My sister was there with her boyfriend Adam. They are such an old couple when they are together. I picked up some flowers for my Mama and when the boys gave them to her she looked at me and said, “Thanks for the cemetery flowers, Tee.” I almost fell out. She trying to say that I picked up the flowers from the cemetery on the way there. LOL! She is crazy. And she was so happy all day. She kept smiling. I ate and ate and drank wine. We watched a movie called The Orphanage and then we let my 8 year old play the Wii for an hour and then we watched another movie. Then I had to get dressed to go to work. So I dropped the boys off to their Dad’s house an then I went on in, feeling pleased with my day. I couldn’t use my phone because it wasn’t working properly but DEEP says I was lieing. Whatever… So work was slow because everyone was at the Red Lobster down the street so I basically sat around for 2 hours and only served one table. But they tipped me $15 so It’s like I worked more… I was chillin… And then it got busy for our 11pm crowd. I don’t know what it is about that time, but we get slammed for about 2 hours. So about 12:30 on a Sunday I usually go home, but just as I was wrapping up my last tables about to check to see if I have any tips on the credit cards, a chick walks in and asks for a table for 6. I tried to shoot her off and say someone will be with her in a moment, but she said, “But aren’t you a server?” I was like, “I was about to get off but if you want me to stay and serve you, I will.” As I cleaned off a table for them and set them up, they told me that they were servers too. “What restaurant do you work at?” I asked them. “Red Lobster.” “Ohhh,” I exclaimed. “I heard ya’ll were slammed today!” So I served them up with extra special care and one of the male servers was flirting with me. I flirted back and reminded him that he’s too young for me. He was cute though and if I wasn’t in my present state of mind I woulda messed with him but I’m tired…tired… And when they left…I was already rolling my silverware and preparing to SLIDE outthatbitch…my customers came up to me and handed me $35. I couldn’t believe it! I was smiling and counting my cash and thinking about all the times I’ve tipped waiters 100 %. And it had nothing to do with the service. I always did that because I respected their job and I felt like most people don’t. In Houston, the Red Lobster servers LOVED ME! And the Cheesecake Factory servers loved me in Dallas! Damn I was eating better when I was homeless…LOL! And now I’m seeing it come back to me.   I love my job. It keeps me afloat and it recharges me when I have to take care of people. My manager always tells me that I outshine everyone else in the entire restaurant because of my hospitality. Even if customers are in a bad mood, I’ll give them a silly smile and stare at them to make them laugh at themselves. I talk to everyone. Last night a guy came in and he was looking so hurt. He was eating by himself in a booth and he had on a wife beater and some basketball short. He looked sick in the heart. So I asked him how he was doing and he poured out his story about being hurt by his girl. I talked to him for about 10 minutes and then I let him think about it.  You know I wrote the book on getting over heartbreak. Maybe that’s why I’m not afraid to love so hard because..I know I’ll get over it. And then that man will be just another story to tell. But really…that’s all life is… One long story to tell.