DMB Digest: Kicking Mother's Day in the Proverbial Nuts
After years of failure, I finally figured it out.
I have this thing with Mother’s Day. It’s not that I have anything against mothers. I love my mother. I love my kid’s mother, the wife. I don’t even have an issue with mother as metaphor. As far as expletives go, I prefer ‘mother scratcher’ over any of the other mother variants. ( A little shout out to all you Raising Arizona fans: “Bill Roberts? No, not that mother scratcher. Bill Parker!”)
As the father of selfish little goblins, Mother’s Day has become this strange purgatory for me. I wish I could spend the week leading up to the grand day simply thinking about my own mother and perhaps doing a few simple things to make her feel appreciated. She lives 2,000 miles away and has (I can only assume) all the typical motherly emotions associated with the strange holiday we have set aside for the commemoration of women who have suffered childbirth. (I know I was a monster for like a couple of decades, but here are some flowers to make up for it. Happy Mother’s Day!)
Instead of sending awkward flowers to my own mother, I typically spend the week trying to guilt my two sons into spending even five minutes thinking of their mother— you know, the woman they still make awkward requests of daily. Awkward statement/requests I’ve heard in the last couple of weeks include: “Mom, I puked in the sink.” “Mom, can you bring me the plunger?” “Mom, can you take the vanilla out of this?” “Can you walk me downstairs?” “The rabbit ate my hair!” “Why do you cook so much broccoli?” And my personal favorite, “Mom, nothing is fun anymore!”
Then when Mother’s Day finally arrives, I beg and plead with the two Tasmanian-devils-of-self-centeredness to keep all their appropriate-childish-neediness crammed inside for twelve hours. Just give me twelve hours without any bickering, belching, or kicking each other in the nuts. Right? Do it for your mother!
And every year it’s like I’ve asked them to bring home a Nobel Peace Prize. Everything goes sideways by 11:00am, and my frantic efforts to deliver the family to the wife’s favorite Italian restaurant (the only gluten-free-made-from-scratch pasta in town) before dozens of families converge on the location like elite tactical units once again results with us parked in a carry-out stall at Sonic.
Well, you know what? Screw that. This year, I got smart. I don’t have to yield to societal expectations. There’s nothing sacred about May 14th. Who says we can only celebrate motherhood on a Sunday? or on only one particular day of the year? I wised up to Valentine’s Day over two decades ago. Why has it taken me so long with Mother’s Day? My mother didn’t raise no sucker! Who says red roses are the only flower? And that diamonds are the only thing that last forever? You know what? Kay can kiss my grits.
By the time you read this, my steeped-in-teenage-spirit family will have already celebrated Mother’s Day. We dined out at the wife’s favorite restaurant Thursday evening. I bought her a special cookie from a local coffee shop/bakery on Wednesday and forged the boys sentiment. (So what if the wife saw right through it. It was still a damn good cookie.) I’m planning on dumpster diving for day-old flowers next Monday. (Take that, Florists' Transworld Delivery.)
This year, I’m doing Mother’s Day my way, the fed-up Dad way. Booyah.
If You Wish to Start Reading The Green Ones…
[Click here to start at the beginning.]
Thanks so much for taking the time to read these scenes of Boundaries, Season 2 of The Green Ones. I’ll be publishing FREE daily scenes from The Green Ones until…I die…or something terrible happens. Seriously, I’ve got over 100 scenes written so far, and I’ll be writing more until the story reaches its natural ending. You are totally welcome to read the entire story for FREE! If at any point you decide you would rather finish the story in ebook or print format, just click the buttons below and you can do that as well. If you enjoy reading the serial releases, BUT you would also like to support me as a writer (my kids need wine!) please subscribe to my premium content for bonus scenes, exclusives, and insider access to my process. And of course, I’d be grateful if you would share this post with any of your reader friends who you think would enjoy The Green Ones. Happy reading!