Tuesday, May 14, 2013
I don't believe in Mother's Day.
String her up by the toes!
Not for obvious reasons; old family issues, lack of a hug or because I think Mother's are unimportant. I don't believe in Mother's Day because it has been corrupted by an avalanche of Mommy Issues...most of them created by women honored on the appointed day.
Yeah Chicklets I'm talking about US.
As a Mom of twins I can state for myself no "Thank You" card has been created to cover the sleepless nights, the poop, the rejection or the fatigue of too much. In fact, I can safely say without trodding on the scope of endless possibility, there isn't one that will ever cover the scope of parenting.
Yes girls and boys, (this includes you Father's Day devotees), you will never be compensated for the grueling labor. As mind chatter resumes I hear questions and comments from afar.
"What about teaching gratitude?"
"Mom's carry the world!"
"Don't Mom's deserve respect?"
Of course they do. So do Fathers, Brothers, Sisters, Garbage Men and anyone working the graveyard shift. But a day devoted to "respect" is unattainable because it is a wavy line depending on where a person stands. Most kids couldn't offer enough honor to be a crumb on a tired Mom's double fudge brownie.
Is that why we parent?
For a splendidly performed Thank You Dance?
If so, we're out of luck.
Being a parent means never needing a thank you, though when one arrives it is a cool drink of water on a blistering hot day. It is beyond description when a child, a husband, a friend, says the work done in earnest has been gratefully accepted. But that isn't the point. A day has been corrupted and turned from lovely acknowledgment of parental love into a necessary practice which entails much hoop-la in order to show the world how fabulous and amazing one person is or has been...in comparison to all other humans across the planet.
Looking at the day objectively, there are plenty of Mom's being honored who gave their left kidney decades ago, sitting at a table set by another Mother who is currently parenting toddlers.
What the fuck?
Isn't there a Grandparent Day?
I'm not saying gratitude isn't in order for the organ donation. Accept the thanks and be done with it. At 42 the kid is obviously breathing on his own and his wife who is at the end of her last nerve, is running around kissing someone else's old lady ass (which is now unencumbered by little sticky fingers and able to sleep til noon. The time for thank you's sits in the rear view mirror and if it wasn't done well when Jr. was 13, let it go. There isn't a bouquet of flowers which will encompass the parenting work detail.
So why try?
Parenting is an offering. It isn't a tank of gas, a new roof or a toll on the interstate. If it were little babies would arrive with 15 trillion dollars so the little blood suckers could hit the ATM every time they puked.
A gift from the heart does not require a thank you.
Formerly a provider of rides to practice, school lunches and boo-boo kissing, I am currently endeavored in long nights waiting for a phone call, short conversations about money and hours talking someone off the ledge about college finals.
It isn't about a thank you.
"It isn't even about the love."
First of all of course it's about the love and secondly this blog is solo Dude.
"It isn't about the love."
Alright, I'll blink. What do you mean?
"Love is not quantifiable. It is unending and INFINITE."
"To quantify love diminishes the power."
So, an offering is free from all expectation of enough?
"What is enough?"
Ha-ha. Very sneaky Wise One.
There can be no measurement for gratitude, which means there is none for love. As a Mother, a parent, a human our best is to offer this experience in service to others and hope it catches on.