The 365th Day

Every day is Mother’s Day at our house, which is why I felt comfortable making the decision to stay home today, while the rest of the clan traipses off to the coast. I do not have to demonstrate to Gluten-Free Mama that I love her by accompanying her to the coast; I show her that I love her every day of our lives.

I could have gone; I have the tools to accomplish the task. The problem is that I simply do not enjoy myself. I try-honestly I do, but it’s like asking an animal rights person to wear a genuine mink stole and do it comfortably. I know I couldn’t. I mean, if I were inclined to wear women’s fashions in the first place. Which I’m not.

Moving right along, we did a similar excursion a couple of Mother’s Days ago (I have the pics), and I struggled. The drive is long, I have issues being in a vehicle in the first place, and I am simply afraid of casting a pall over the whole group. Even if it were Father’s Day, I could probably pull that stuff, but not on Mother’s Day. 

So why jump through the hoops? Instead, I will stay home, spruce the place up a bit and prepare for what is a far more significant family event the very next day: GF Mama’s birthday. I am going to roast a couple of home-gown chickens, mash some potatoes and invite the fam over here for din-din procedures.

I will do so, that is, providing GF Mama has not wound up in the hospital, for the third consecutive birthday. I will not elaborate, already being on shaky ice and thin ground at the same time, but let’s just say a birthday at home would be the best present of all.

Only a year ago, on the best day of the year, GF Mama stumbled in a gas station parking lot, smacked her head on the concrete and ended up in the local hospital. After precautionary x-rays were taken, and the brain tumor discovered, she was whisked to another hospital, closer to her doctors. 

I have written volumes on the subject inside my head, as I am accustomed to doing, but they will never see the light of day, or in my case, the dark of night. Meanwhile, staying home and cleaning the house is the best possible Mothers Day present I could provide anyway. 

That’s what the meme on face/book would have us believe: All Mom wants is to be carried off to bed for a well-deserved nap, to awake to a clean house. In this case substitute a trip to the coast for a nap. Besides, I don’t even know why I am prattling on about cleaning the house for Mother’s Day: I am the one who cleans and maintains the house anyway, not only on Mother’s Day, but the other 364 days as well. 

I ain’t bragging but I ain’t skeered either. Hand me that toilet scrub-brush, will ya?

Neither Gluten-Free Mama nor I ascribe to the Hallmark approach to life, where we buy into the artificial holidays, and feel compelled to shower each other with gifts. There is nothing wrong with setting the day aside, and honoring everything about motherhood, as long as we don’t lose sight of the fact that if Mom is appreciated every day, then we need not feel pressure to artificially inflate the importance of one specific day.

It’s better to honor the mothers of the world 364 days a year, and skip the 365th, than the reverse.  

Possibly the coolest photo I have ever taken:
Do you see the arctic fox, in the reflected clouds?