Monday, May 10, 2010

A Mother of a Day

As some of you already know, I have this love/hate relationship with Mothers Day.

On one hand I'm thinking: "Hell yeah...I spent 596 hours popping you out; you damn well better bring me weak coffee, burnt toast and a wilted flower in bed this morning."

On the other hand I'm thinking this is a sort of life style choice and no one else gets an entire day to honor their lifestyle choice (except, you know...fathers). You know who deserves a day? People who clean public toilets in bus stations. Now those are people who deserve a free dinner.

I am of the firm belief that no one's job is more important than anyone else's and income in certainly no reflections of a task's function to society; otherwise those annoying Kardashian people would be living in a van down by the river. (Why are those Kardashian people creeping out of the sewer of inane cable television into places like the Washington Correspondents Dinner? Shouldn't someone set out traps or something to prevent such infestation?)

That being said, I never feel entitled to too much hoopla when it comes to Mothers Day because I'm a little reluctant to celebrate merely doing my job. Mothers Day is like saying: "Hooray! The human relegated to your care isn't dead! Good job!"

So, I'm always happy with whatever is planned in my honor on Mothers Day, lest someone find out I'm not quite as saintly as Hallmark would have you believe. So I have a few confessions to make:

  • My kids always had a consistent bedtime, not because I was a good mother, but because I was tired.
  • I listened to audio books and knitted during Little League games.
  • If we were in the pediatrician's office, there had to be a limb dangling or someone's brains seeping out of their ear; I couldn't see paying a doctor to tell me "it's a virus that's going around."
  • All while my kids were growing up I told them that Disney World was a huge, poorly-run amusement park where people stand in line all day long for a thrill lasting a cumulative half-hour; I told them Disney spends all it's money on marketing, which is why everyone thinks it's this great place to go. (In short -- I told them the truth.) Consequently, they not only have no desire to go to Disney World -- they have an active dislike of anything related to it. That's right -- I stole Mickey Mouse from my children.
  • I ate some of their Teddy Grahams. Okay, I ate a lot of their Teddy Grahams. Okay, so a few times I ate so many of their Teddy Grahams that they were forced to have toast for a snack (hey -- I put cinnamon and sugar on it...).

So there you have it. And through it all, I still received this yesterday from Heir 1 (it's good to have a kid who works for Panera):

And this from Dirtman (this is one of six):

And was treated to dinner and a movie by Heir 2 (accompanied by Caisee, who was treating her mom, Carol, too!) and a trip to The State Arboretum at Blandy Farm by Dirtman.


All this in spite of everything.

So I'm not even angry that I woke up this morning to a sink full of dirty dishes. Well, not too angry...


Anonymous said...

Nice to see you posting again.
I can top you - my Mom used to say "Mice don't wear pants or talk." and we weren't allowed to watch anything Disney while growing up ---
and we turned out normal
(okay, close enough to normal to not stop normal traffic flow)(whatever)

Sisiggy said...

Without going into my usual Disney rant, let me just say it disturbs me that Disney has hijacked kids' imaginations and our culture. I could rant on about this for columns and columns while my kids roll their eyes, but I won't.

I'm convinced there is no "normal."


Gwynne said...

Happy belated mothers day, because there needs to be one day a year when being a mother is more than just a job. It's to be QUEEN for a day. :-)

Sisiggy said...

Same to you.

It's good to be Queen...

Trasherati said...

I'm copying your Disney comments and reciting them when mine bring up a trip to That Place again...
And having met you and your kids, I'm so glad to emulate your parenting. (I hate baseball practice and games, despite the fact that it provides some reading time.)

Sisiggy said...

Oh...I don't kid myself. It's not too late for things to go horribly wrong. I'm sure up until a few years ago, Mrs. Madoff was bragging about her "successful son, Bernie."