Do you know a real Mutha'?
Mother’s Day is a really big bag of nonsense. For all the daily garbage we choke back, we get ONE day where your kids pretend they are the Von Trapp Family and you’re Mother Theresa.
Mom’s are actually a bit more Joan of Arc - radical, ballsy, going into all kinds of battles and ultimately - all unappreciated and misunderstood, we somehow end up getting burned. (Well, that's a comedy killer.)
Look, the commercial image of “mom" in pastel soft-focus haze is really romantic and lovely. But that wasn’t my mom. She liked to kick fear in the teeth (or more likely knit it a hat). She was a fantastic mom. She hated fancy recipes or baking - My mom wanted to expose me to all forms of art. She took me to museums and the theater. She showed me sculpture and musicals. Of course, the sculptures were often in cemeteries and the music at drag shows.
She found art everywhere and tolerate foolishness nowhere.
My mom’s not here to celebrate and that is sad. But I’m still gonna sit my big bottom in the I-Don’t-Iron-Throne and watch my minions will do my bidding for just one day.
Actually, I will probably just order take-out.
Mom said to never have any expectations and you’ll never be disappointed.
Don’t have any expectations. You know how to be sweet to others - be sweet to you. Treat yourself. Go get all the goodies you keep wishing for.
While I'm barking orders at you: Send me your mom stories! Tell me all about it. I love a good story.
Now, go to your room until I call you.
Big embarrassing hugs to you,