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.

Mother of the Year

How to feel like a complete shit-heel in 3 easy steps:

1. Call someone one the phone and start a long conversation.

2. When young child excitedly scampers into room calling out "Mommy! Mommy!! Mommy!!!" snap "WHAT!?!?"

3. Feel like a shit-heel when he replies in a tiny voice "I just wanted to tell you I love you..."

And then...

Tell the person you're on the phone with what just happen, using the phrase "shit-heel" and wait for it. Small child will laugh and say "shit-heel, that's funny", and then you get to give him the "You don't get to say shit-heel, shit-heel is a grown-up word and you haven't earned it yet, so don't say shit-heel, OK?" lecture, after which you may proclaim your parenting superiority in expanding your child's vocabulary one expletive at a time.

I'll be waiting for my check from the Nobel Committee on parenting. The Peace Prize can't be far behind.

Well, it's not a weekend at the spa...

...but it's better than nothing. I've had some difficult days in the last two weeks, and I could really use some time off. Time with a masseuse, tall fruity drinks, maybe a hammock under some palm trees. Gourmet meals brought to me by handsome cabana boys.

Sigh.

Well, back to reality. Mums don't get time off, as a rule. Once a mum, always a mum...even when your kids are grown. My own mum could probably use an escape like the above...but instead, she's going to let me have a little time off. Three days next week - Friday through Sunday - I am going to be at an event where my band (what's left of us, and we're shrinking fast right now. Really, you'd think we were hand spun wool and someone washed us in hot water...) is performing. Mum offered to watch the Evil Genius so I wouldn't have to bring him with me.

I love the little guy. Bringing him to new places, camping out, watching him sing and dance along to our concerts, and using our time somewhere new to teach him are all terrific. But...he's exhausting, ,sometimes. When I have him with me, it's hard to relax, to sleep, to take a shower - even when my bandmates or folks at the event are wonderfully nice and take him away for a while. I just can't do it. So mum decided to take away some of the stress and difficulty by keeping the Evil Genius at him for me.

Three whole days. If I leave early on Friday morning, I will have more time when I get there to do...umm...as little as possible.

Well, I'll have to make up my bed, set up to do readings, and eventually perform, but other than that? Nothing. Sweet.

It's not that I don't love and absolutely trust my bandmates/dear friends, or the wonderful people at these events...it's that I just can't let go of being his mum when he's there with me. When he's home with T or my mum, I can relax. I may not know what he's eating, drinking, or doing each day, but he's in our home environment and "safe". If you're not a mum or dad (but mostly a mum), you won't get it.

If you are a mum, you're probably thinking how much I suck right now, getting a whole weekend off. I understand.

I won't mention the nine days in June, then...