One Day?

Mother. Mom. Mommy. Mama. Mam. Mum. Ma.

There's more than one way to refer to one's mater.

It hardly seems fair that someone who figures so largely in a body's life should get one day a year in her honor. Well...two if you count birthdays. Still.

I don't much care for mother's day, truth be told. It's not that I don't love my Mum, 'cause I do. I just don't love how commercialized it's become, how it's been made to be about presents and flowers and going out to eat. Hmph. None of the ads on TV or radio, or here in the blue nowhere, mention taking out the trash or doing dishes or laundry, or mowing the yard, or any of a number of things a mom might like better than trinkets or chocolates or clothes that don't fit.

I love and appreciate my Mum every day of the year, without the aid of Hallmark or Kay jewelers, or any other commercial concern, thankyouverymuch.

And the Evil Genius constantly tells me he loves me, plasters me with hugs and kisses, cuddles up and wants to be with me, so I'm good in that department, too.

I'm working the RenFest this weekend for my friend K. I imagine there will be mothers there, out with their families. I hope they have fun. I hope it's not the only day this year their kids pay them any mind.

Happy Mother's Day, y'all...every day.