mothers' day debunked

you can call me a whistleblower, that's fine. no, i'm not going to out santa or the easter bunny or even the tooth fairy. i've just experienced my first mothers' day and, for those who have not yet or never will be a mama, i am here to expose the ugly truth, pull back the scrim, and let in the harsh light of reality. here it is:

it is just another day.

nothing will be different or special. in the end, you are the only one who can do what you do, so guess what? you are going to keep doing it. all day. just like yesterday. just like tomorrow. your lovely burgeoning bundle of joy doesn't know what day it is either, so he's not going to give you a break. in the end, there are lunchboxes to pack and toys to remember not to leave behind and diapers to be changed and cribs to be curled up in and you, my dearest, will be the one doing the doing. after all, mothers' day falls inauspiciously in the heat of probably every playoff season except football. you will be left holding the bag. the cruelest part of the joke is that the folks that will really want to take good care of you that day will be other mothers, but they'll be so busy doing their own mothering, they just can't stop to shoulder any of your load.

the truth is, i think they're busy earning their points. from what i can tell, it seems there is some frequent mothering program and as a new mama, you're a brand new cardholder with a big fat goose egg on your annual statement. in time, you'll receive some meager paybacks in the form of construction paper and glitter cards, followed by popsicle stick jewelry boxes, then quasi-edible, child-prepared breakfast in bed and so on. whee. alas, lovies, it does appear a little grim at first, but i reckon you can expect to see some change in your status once your small ones can largely fend for themselves. you'll know you've reached that coveted gold status when you're taken out for brunch by your adult children, awarded a pretty darn nice gift, and allowed the lion's share of your day to do what you want to do unfettered. the prestigious platinum elite members get it all, including the chance to actually relish time with little ones [grandbabies] on that day with little muss or fuss. membership does have its privileges.

i think the truth of the matter is we should all just cut to the chase and call it national greeting card day. those bastards make out like bandits.