I went to two stores looking for the right card for my Mom. Found perfect cards for David, Rissa, even my Dad, but for my Mom? Nothing, nada, zip! There were a couple of cards that would have done alright, but they were like $9.95 and $11.00!!! ELEVEN FREAKING DOLLARS?!? For a card? Since I had my first rant last May on this subject, Mother's Day without the Crap, prices have sky-rocketed.
First off, why are most of the cards addressed to: A Wonderful Mother, The Best Mother, A Special Mother... Who on this planet, not raised by nannies, calls their Mom, MOTHER?!? I don't even call my Mom, 'Mom,' I call her 'Mare' - after the French, Mère, but horsier, and because I like bad puns. Or 'Mor' - the Danish word for Mom.
There were so many cards that started with this sort of text:
"Mother, you will never know how much you truly mean..."
Yes she will. And you know when? When she finishes reading the card. Because you are telling her right now with this stupid card how much she means to you.
"Mother you've always been there for me..."
Lie. No mother has ALWAYS been there for her kid. Except maybe Mildred Pierce. There are times when kids are shits and have made dumb-ass decisions and they need to be told "You're on your own on this one sweetie... I am not bailing you out of jail tonight."
"Mother, I know that I don't say 'I love you' a lot..."
Why not? Why aren't you telling your mother that you love her a lot? Are you a bitch and you're just trying to make up for your bad behaviour and get into her will with a crappy card? OR... is she the bitch, in which case, why are you even giving her a card? Stop this toxic Catch-22 relationship and spend time with your friends who are nicer people.
So for Mare this year, she's getting a handmade card with a hand-written sentiment which might be as simple as writing out "I love you," or "I'm so glad that we get along." I don't want to give her a crap card that other people wrote that sort of fits the circumstances. I want her to know that I'm proud that she stands up for the under-dog, happy that we still get into giggle fits, and when she does her Arsenio Hall fist pump and sings "I am the Champion" after she beats me at Perquacky, she is a goddess. Where's the card that says that?
|Christmas 1969, Summerside, PEI|