My tongue tastes like it's wearing a floral minty mini-skirt. No, I haven't been molesting the Jelly Belly jar again. I've been tonguing Mother's Day cards. If this were a Seinfeld episode, I'd be dead: envelope glue starching my veins. I think they use the stuff as a mummification tool in some cultures.
BLECH!
I tried licking the dog, that didn't help. At least not me. He seemed to like it. He shifted around so I could get this spot on his back he hasn't quite been able to reach…
I was a child statistic; Hallmark hangs my picture on their wall as "valued customer." If I stop buying cards, they go bankrupt. My parents divorced, my grandparents divorced. It's in my genes. It's also in my mailbox.
Happy Mother's Day!
They say you don't divorce your in-laws. I should probably buy MyUnwife's mom a card too, but I never met her. I'm not sure she really has one. Now, that is not what I meant. I'm sure MyUnwife is mammalian not alien. I just figure those stories I heard about her mom are like the mom stories you tell people when you want them to think your mom is cool.
"Momma said life is like a box of chocolates."
"No, that was Gump's mom."
"Oh What did my mama say?"
"Don't chew with your mouth full?"
"Yeah, that's it. She was a wise woman."
"I'm sure she was…"
Really her mom was a circus freak. Ok, no not really, but it would have been a good story. My mom bought me a ferret and locked us in the closet. "The winner get's fed." I was a skinny kid with a fat ferret. As I said, I was also a statistic. If you believe all the stories, I should be traumatized. I'm not. I'm a ferret-phobe, but isn't everybody?
Come Mother's Day though, I have to buy bulk mailing stamps. It's the only way I can afford the holiday. Still, I believe in marriage. I believe that you can find somebody and love them forever. It takes work, but it is possible. So far I haven't done a great job myself at proving that philosophy, but just because the silly rabbit got his paws on the cereal box, doesn't mean that Trix aren't for kids. It just means somebody screwed up. It also means we're having cereal stuffed bunny for dinner.
"Mmmm, the rabbit has a good fruity taste!"
"8 vitamins and iron!"
Yeah, I know, consider that last metaphoric train wreck my Mother's Day gift to you. Like most things it sounded cooler in my head. A lot of things work out that way for me. It's ok. Being a statistic and all, it's nice to be surprised. My dad remarried after he divorced my mom. This month, they'll be married 34 years. Second marriages statistically crash harder than the first.
My dad gives me hope. He's not a statistic, he's a good father. Come dad's day I'll be sure to tell him. Right now though, it's all about the moms.
From what I remember, my parent's divorce was far from perfect. I was just a kid though; I had other problems. How I could make one of them get me a set of Star Trek figurines was high on that list. Between that and the Sheri-Anne girl on the bus, I was distracted. I think that was fine with all my parents. I know they did the best they could. Statistically speaking I think my moms and dads did quite well.
Thanks Mom for teaching me how to hope, and how to survive. Thanks Mom for loving my dad and keeping him happy, despite his young kid from a previous marriage. Thanks for accepting his kid as your own.
So yeah, I'm a statistic with a greeting card mortgage, but it's worth it. I'd like to think some day I'll remarry, maybe have kids of my own. If their mom is as good as my moms, she'll keep them from being statistics. With the armada of grandparents I'm sure they will be spoiled though...
0 comments:
Post a Comment