I know today is Mother's Day and that's supposed to mean something
to me. I'm supposed to wear my sparkly princess crown and dance around
my mound of greeting cards. I'm supposed to redeem one of the several
massage vouchers I always forget I have, even when I'm complaining
about how bad I need a massage.
I know we need our "days." Our days for romance. And presents. Our
days for wearing green and watching fireworks. We need scheduled time
for us to wear lingerie and have sex and be thankful and get drunk and
fool each other. Because otherwise we won't do those things,
apparently. And if it wasn't for Mother's Day, mothers around the world
wouldn't have a day reserved for bitching about their baby's daddies
getting them the wrong thing.
And trust me, the mothers they are a bitching...
Maybe it's just me, but Mother's Day seems so.... dated? Another
day of hollow meaning and excuses to do the things we sure as hell
don't need days for. Or do we?
I'm always surprised to see how many people wrap themselves up in
holidays such as Mother's Day or even worse, Valentine's Day. Days
fueled by expectations and horribly dated stereotypes.
Exhibit A: The "Mother's Day Bouquet" at the local
supermarket which included baby's breath and pink carnations. Not to
be a snob (okay, scratch that-- snobbery is the name of this
game) but exploiting the fact that (some) men are clueless when it
comes to floral arrangements is not cool. In fact, it's flat out mean
and manipulative.
Exhibit B: I was unable to find a Mother's Day card for a
Grandmother (my mom) that didn't involve a rocking chair and a little
old, shriveled lady knitting a sweater. (No offense to little old
ladies who knit sweaters but not ALL GRANDMOTHERS are/do.) So instead I
got one en Espanol, because grandmothers don't look like they are on
their deathbeds in Mexico. In fact, they look my age.
Read More...
