I hate to harp on the dad thing, but today at 2pm the supermarket parking lot looked like the Million Man Flower March. They were heading in all directions, many with a look of bitter loathing. Either that or they’d just been to an Unsweetened Lemonade Convention. One dad was rushing through the neighborhood with a Dosha gift bag dangling wildly from his fist. The five-year-old boy behind him struggled to keep up, because the bouquet he was charged with holding was more than half his size.
Earlier this week I heard an ad on Howard that talked about all the bad gifts men buy for their wives and moms. It began with, “Hey guys, we all hate Mother’s Day!” The nerve. But it was an honest ad. This year I was so focused on how it was going to be yet another holiday hastily thrown together with TC desperately trying to pass-off an old household item as new, that I totally forgot my own mother! My dear old mum, who when I was a mouthy thirteen year old, hurled a jar of nails at my head from across the garage. It shattered on the wall behind me. When I gasped in horror she shouted, “Just look what you’ve driven me to do!!!” After all these years I finally know how she must have felt. The rewards are great, but it’s a maddening and thankless job.
Similar to Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day is firmly rooted in consumerism and boy, did they ever fall short. One day to honor our mothers and loved ones? That’s what our work is reduced to? Shouldn’t it be a daily occurrence? I motion to call it, Mother’s Hour and it should include a nanny, one gourmet truffle, quick massage, nap and optional cocktail. Seriously. Even if we took one week’s vacation all by ourselves (which we never do) that would still work out to be… what… like… seven minus three hundred, sixty-five… days… and… well, the math definitely doesn’t fall in our favor, that much I know.
Mother’s Hour! Every Day!
(My singular little holiday was great, actually. They girls gave me amazing gifts they made in school. TC helped them do a garden stone with all their handprints in it, which I love. He also got us tix to a small outdoor concert and I was still happy about it even though what I really wanted was to see these guys instead. Then I left TC and all my sick children to go to a wonderful brunch at Sanborn’s with close friends, and later I got my toes done. It was pretty fab. Happy Mother’s Day, y’all.)
