Tuesday, July 5, 2016

Mother's Day

     Recently it was Mother's Day and it was a very rainy one.  It was also the weekend of our daughter's First Holy Communion.  This is a big deal for Catholics and our girl was very excited.  Mom mom took her shopping and as funny as it seemed, she fell in love with one dress and we couldn't talk her into another one.  It reminded me of that moment when you try on a wedding dress and you realize when you find "the one".  Weird since she's only seven.  I have plenty of time to worry about big things like that but flashforwards are easy when you see your second grader in a white dress.
   We were lucky in that our group was scheduled for an 11:30 mass.  This was great for mommy since we know what a freaking basket of sunshine I can be early in the morning and the little apple in question didn't roll fall from my tree either.  However, another stronger genetic anomally made me shovel my butt out of bed earlier - the urge to bargain hunt.  That same morning there was a consignment sale at our local middle school.  I also happen to sell with these people in the fall so I was familiar with the type of merchandise they would have for sale.
   Being an only child, our girl doesn't want for much but I always figure it's worth a prowl because I enjoy the thrill of the hunt.  It also helped that I didn't desparately need stuff so I could relax a little.    That takes some stress away from worrying about someone else beating me to something I needed.  For a shocking change I was early to the sale.  I had to double check to make sure I was in the right place but after a few minutes a line began to build.
  I found a few good things and tried to keep it moving so I could get back in time.  The last thing I needed was people freaking out on me the day of First Holy Communion because mommy was shopping.  As soon as I got home I finished getting dressed and we got our girl ready.  She looked wonderful and even remembered most of what her teachers told her for the mass.  Even my sister in law and niece from Audubon showed up which was really nice considering how busy they are.  We survived lunch with french fries and ketchup with her dress intact.
  The next day was Sunday, Mother's Day and there was supposed to be a May crowning of Mary right after mass.  First Holy Communion kids were invited to come back in their outfits and participate in the procession.  It was also my mother's birthday so we were double whammied.  I was able to come up with a few small gifts for mom and after mass we went to breakfast at a local diner.  It was nice and low key.  It was after we returned home and mom left that I thought maybe I would get a Mother's Day.  Fat chance.
  The very creature that made me a mother in the first place wanted nothing to do with me and pitched an oscar winning hissy fit.  She complained loudly that no one was available to play and why was there no holiday devoted to kids??!!  As we say at our house A plus for hutzpah.
 It was at this point that mommy was fed up.  I had already been stressed out due to someone's behavior that week to begin with.  This was just the cherry on top of the crap sundae.
 Daddy, who is usually oblivious, came to the rescue.  He sent me upstairs for a nap while he dealt with princess hemorrhoid.  After my rest I was even able to go out to a local music store and shop.  What made that fun for me was boxes and boxes of cds of every conceivable type and they were all $1 each!  I almost closed the place.  In the meantime, my spouse did laundry and hung it outside, made sure I had flowers and a few gifts to open and even made dinner.  He destroyed my kitchen but he made dinner and it was obvious he was trying hard.
  Frankenbunny, on the other hand, wasn't done yet.  After the evening's bath, her majesty refused to get out of the bathtub and dry herself.  Mommy lost it.  I picked her up and threw her naked, wet miserable butt in her room and closed the door.  Happy fucking Mother's Day to me.  I think it was Roseann Barr who said this was why some animals eat their young.
 
     
 

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