Also known as “the Sunday from Hell” for many women, that wonderful greeting card holiday is about to descend upon us again. I am speaking about Mother’s Day, a gift from the Hallmark Card industry (to themselves) designed to “honor mothers everywhere” and make every other woman feel like pond scum for not having contributed to the world population.
It is a day for feeling left out, made even worse if you have children and they do absolutely nothing for you on that supposed “holiday”. They don’t send me flowers. They have never brought me breakfast in bed (although I get told that I am lucky to be spared burnt toast, spilled orange juice, runny eggs, bad coffee and undercooked bacon). They don’t buy me chocolates (which I now appreciate as I am diabetic). And worst of all, they don’t send me a stinking card.
It’s my fault I suppose, as I have been lax, even forgetful, of my own mothers in the past. But we always hope that our children will be better than us, will remember us more than we remember our own moms. I guess this Sunday I will have to console myself; I think I’ll go play Cats in the Cradle and wish myself an Unhappy Mother’s Day.