Is it Liar's Day again ALREADY?! (Checks calendar on Smartalec Phone.)
Yep, it's that one cuh-razy day out of the year when everybody pretends their mothers fart rainbows and shit skittles.
I bet you're glad you bought that Official Arson Kit during the pre-Mother's Day Sale Extravaganza. That investment will pay for itself today, and you should consider carrying it around full-time. I am NOT planning to MAKE arson, Silly! Stop dialing 911 RIGHT NOW, or I will take away your cell phone AND give you something to call 911 ABOUT!
Calm down. The fire extinguisher makes it easier to put out the spontaneous pants fires that will be erupting near you all day long. And perhaps ON you.
*The Semi-Mythical History of the Conspiracy to Invent and Commit Mother's Day Upon the American People*
As the popular story goes, William H. Hallmark Jr. is credited with creating a holiday he called Mother's Day as a way to increase sales at his floundering gift shop. This is partially true, but it was in fact William's MOTHER who suggested it as a way to unload some of the thousands of greeting cards made for her by the obsessive compulsive William Jr. over the years. Fingers crossed behind her back (for luck and to cover the teensy untruth), she convinced the original Mama's Boy that she hated to part with the cards, but they might be just the thing to jump-start his business, and it would be a VERY GOOD thing if he could start making enough money to support himself and finally move OUT of her house. The apron strings were pretty darned stretched and frayed by this time, but she figured they were still strong enough to strangle him, if the urge became uncontrollable.
In preparation for the eventual freedom of Empty Nestdom, she told him the following simple bedtime story every single night, from the day he was born until the day he moved out.
Baby birds gotta eat.
Mama birds gotta feed.
Baby birds gotta learn.
Mama birds gotta teach.
Baby birds gotta fly,
Sooner than later,
Or they'll just go SPLAT
when Mama birds push'em out!
*THE END of the bedtime story and the history lesson, but not the end of the blog post*
If your mother is alive, there's a 95+% chance that you will tell her today, in writing, that she was and is the very BEST Mother in the Whole World. If you have children of your own, chances are high that you will be on the receiving end of the same sentiment today, assuming they are old enough to understand how white lies work.
Since it's literally impossible for us ALL to be the best, let's agree that most of us are at least trying, and many of us are doing the best we can with the information and tools we possess.
If you're old enough to be reading this, and YOU suck, it's on you, Pal. Stop blaming your Mama! If you're old enough to JUDGE her, you're old enough to accept responsibility for your own behavior and level of suckiness. I call this the Age of Accountability (or the Age of Accounting, depending on whether you turned out to be a CPA or just a regular old SOB like the rest of us).
It's been scientifically proven that even babies can be AHs, if their AH trait is strong enough. So, if you are one, you'd be one no matter what. Your Mama could've hired Mary freaking Poppins, and you'd still suck.
So take time today to think about how much of an AH you've been your whole life. Think about all those nights your poor old Mama KNEW you'd always be an AH, and could've smothered you in your sleep, but she DIDN'T, did she? No. Because she loved you anyway, Jerk Face! AND because smothering children (even if they were total AHs) was illegal in most states, even back then.
Send her a thoughtful card with a very large, and even more thoughtful, Gift Card enclosed. Apologize for being such an AH for forty odd (VERY odd-WHAT is wrong with you?) years. Pretend you don't remember the worst parts of your childhood. Those are to be saved and identified as fictitious in the books and screenplays you will eventually write, and in whose dedications you will probably (truthfully) acknowledge your own Dear Mama for being your Inspiration. Don't forget to thank her for all the times she didn't smother you in your sleep when she had the chance.