Mother's Day ought to be a time of celebration or at least quaffing of a beverage while sitting with one's girlfriends in pretty robes somewhere. It ought to be a time for mamas everywhere to chill, worry- and guilt- and child-free. But often it isn't.
This isn't (usually) because Mother's Day gifts don't measure up somehow. Rather, it is because...
The Me Generation drives some of us crazy over our perpetual insufficient dutifulness.
My brothers and I hatch plans months in advance to avoid the tantrums that follow if we should deign to forget that is is OUR mother(s) rather than our wives or ourselves that are the most important people on May fucking 11th.
If there were a way to drop out, elope, run away for the entire week leading up to and including Mother's Day, I think my siblings and I would do it. Even when we became parents ourselves and hoped that we'd somehow get a reduced sentence on Mother's Day, we were totally wrong.
And the Boomers say we're self-centered.