Sunday, May 8, 2011

I Am The Little Drummer Boy (Um, Girl)

The second Sunday of every May is dedicated to mothers. Just as with all other commercial holidays, we present the appointed human with offerings. Either that, or you feel like a total slime-ball because you haven't got a physical token to present.

You guessed it, kids, we're talking Mother's Day.
Reginald Kitty is not amused.

You may have noticed a lack of updates on this insane little slice of webbyverse, but, as I have mentioned before, this semester of college has been the worst I've ever experienced (for various reasons). Those bastards kept me so busy that I can't remember basic things, and this has really gotten in my way.
A month ago, I started planning Mother's Day. I knew what my mother wanted, I just had to do it. One month later, the plan has yet to go into effect.
This leaves me with a lot of talk, no action, and no offering for my Mommy.
Every day this week (since I have taken all but one final exam) I have apologized and promised that, though it won't be ready on the day, she will get her gift. Each time, she tells me 'don't worry about it'.
But I do.
Several times a day.
You see, Mother's Day has never exactly gone well in our family. My maternal grandmother died when my mother was just eight years old, so every Mother's Day after that has been somewhat tainted. I don't blame my mother for this in the slightest, and understand exactly where she's coming from. To compensate, I always try to make Mother's Day as good as I can. This year, though, I am wracked with guilt. I am the Little Drummer Boy - no gift, not worthy, just let a hole crop up in the middle of the floor and suck me into a giant black abyss.
This has been running through my brain for at least a week.
And then, tonight, as I was in the bath, it hit me: Mother's Day is just like Valentine's Day. I tell my mother every day how much I love her because that's what you do when you love someone. You don't need one day to do that, you need every day to do that. She and I discussed this, and I questioned if I was just rationalizing my own guilt. She just smiled at me, and said, 'Peola, don't get sucked into the commercialism'.

So, even if you're a schmuck like me, and you don't have an object to give your mother as a physical sign of your affection, tell her you love her; and don't just do it today, but every single day.

Happy Mother's Day, Buttwipe. You WILL get that gift, commercialism or not.

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