Mother's Day

I have to believe the original and true meaning of Mother's Day has been lost. Sort of like Christmas and Easter. How do you go from the resurrection of our Lord and Savior to a large rabbit hopping from house to house delivering chocolate in a wicker basket? Not only does he deliver it, he has to find a good place to hide it. At least that was the custom in our house. Do you know how long that would take? At least Santa had the good sense to employ some reindeer to make the trip around the world slightly more speedy.

One would think the original plan for Mother's Day was to give mothers all around the world a break from their children, not a whole day of spending it with them. That's not called "Mother's Day." That's called "Every Day." My theory is the brunch people got together with the greeting card people and put a new spin on the holiday for financial gain soon after it was founded. Have you ever seen a man out to brunch with his children without the mother present? Exactly. The brunch folks pitched this idea that "wouldn't it be nice to take mommy to brunch for Mother's Day" and everyone fell for it. And what can you say as a mom that wouldn't make you look like a complete asshole after being awoken with that nice card (that's where the greeting card people came into the scam) and then refusing to go eat some overpriced pancakes with your family to celebrate.

Taking my kids to a restaurant is about as much fun as taking a staple gun to the forehead (I just saw The Wrestler) so we took the girls to the Nature Museum, the zoo and for a walk around a pond. We came across an uppity eating establishment and it was filled to the brim with Mother's Day brunchers. Right there in the window was a mom sitting there looking frazzled cutting up some french toast or some shit on one of her three children's plates while the dad looked cool as a cucumber sipping a mimosa. HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY INDEED!

Next time someone asks you what you want for Mother's Day I suggest answering in one of the following three ways: 1) Plastic surgery; 2) A weekend at that spa in Arizona that Oprah always yaps about; 3) To be left alone. Chances are they will pick number 3, being the cheapest option. And that's okay. They'll feel like they got off easy, and nothing pleases me more than tricking men into thinking something was really their idea.

Happy (belated) Mother's Day.

PS - There was not a cloud in the sky on Sunday but my kids insisted on wearing their new rain boats and rain coats, as they now do every day. OCD, alive and well in my household.

Um It's Been a While...

Okay, seriously, I had no idea it had been almost a month, I was afraid to come here and check how long it had been. Although my aunt tells my mother to bug me to post something and then I am reminded pretty much every day that I've abandoned the thing I love to do most.

You know that commercial for some kind of feel-good medicine (Prozac, Wellbutrin, Xanax?) that is a cartoon where the girl is walking around with an umbrella and there is a rain cloud following her around? And nobody else? That cloud jumped out of my tv set and is stalking me. I would call in a restraining order but I'm already trying to get one for the men who live in the alley behind my house in an illegal RV hooked up to an abandoned building, and I bet the police get suspicious of people trying to get more than one restraining order at a time.

A huge mutt lives on the dashboard of the RV and I would feel sorry for it if it wasn't let out to roam around free and scare the sh#$ out of toddlers and their mothers (meaning me). I don't think these people are dangerous (minus the dog) because they look like the RV was on its way to Woodstock in the 60s and the whole lot of them seem confused that it's 2010. Sort of like on LOST when they get transported back in time, except unfortunately none of the RV inhabitants look like Sawyer. Besides, everybody knows hippies aren't violent. (Was Charles Manson a hippie? If so disregard and I will go lock my doors.)

I have suggested (very politely) they keep their dog on a leash since it's so big and scary and all. This was met by a very direct statement that seemed hard to argue with on a moment's notice: "The dog isn't leash-trained." I didn't know there was a big training process to get a dog on a leash. I thought you bought a dog a collar, then bought a leash and hooked up the little circle thing on the collar to the little hook on the leash and that was that. But what do I know? I don't own a dog. Also, the guy was drinking a Bud Light out of a can at 11:00 am and I learned many moons ago not to mess with a man drinking Bud Light before noon. (This reminds me -- I will take a photo of said RV tomorrow with dog lounging on the dash and post asap. I bet you don't believe me...)

Cooking update: I have not crock-potted in months. That's okay. I pretended to like it more than I really did. I sort of felt like the girls did when they peed on the potty. Okay, I can do this! I proved it! Now give me back my diapers (read here give me back my take-out menus).

In other news, I set out a plastic bag full of diapers on our deck one night until I had a chance to drop them off in our dumpster. I bet you didn't know this, but rats like toddler dung. This was news to those of us who believed the movie Ratatouille was somewhat realistic. Imagine my surprise when after the girls fell asleep I went out to dispose of the bag and IT WAS MOVING. And a rat popped out. One's love of the city is truly tested when one is faced with a rat gnawing on fresh baby feces. Alas, we didn't move to the suburbs yet. Although -- and I just thought of this -- maybe I should leave the next one on the RV doorstep as a "message." Sort of like the bloody horse head in the bed in The Godfather but this will be easier to obtain albeit perhaps less intimidating. Not to mention I like horses.

I've been so afraid nobody will read this anymore because I am now completely unreliable, and, well, there's been nothing to read. (I did lose two followers in the interim -- QUITTERS!!!) I used to lay awake and think of tons of things I wanted to write about -- and would get up before I forgot, loving every minute. I used to find everyday things that happened hilarious. Sadly, I couldn't even find humor in Kate Gosselin walking around the DWTS dance floor as though Judge Carrie had shot her ass up with horse tranquilizers and trying to pass it off as a cha-cha. (Seriously, I imagined Kate as a war hostage, knowing you were going to die a horrible death and begging the guard on duty to shoot you in the head and save you additional misery. Thank god the voters took mercy.) Although I did snicker when Pam Anderson (who looked like she was starring in that movie where the kid pretends to be African American so he could get into college -- when will they fire the DWTS spray tanning team?) was voted off prematurely; nothing pleases me more than a slut being brought down a notch or two. Unless it's me.

Thank you for your comments and e-mails -- I haven't checked my blog e-mails in a while because the thought I'm not writing scares the hell out of me. If you will forgive me while I try to remember how to do this (but might not be funny at it) I promise to post at least once per week. Plus, did you see the new Bachelorette starts later this month? If that doesn't make me get my sense of humor back, nothing will. (Ed and Jillian are still dating. Can you believe that? They live in my city and there have been sightings. I know where they hang out. If I had something to wear I might show up and ask them what the hell is going on and get Jillian so drunk -- which she would probably already be -- that she'd give me Reid's phone number.)

Cheers people!

PS -- I have some Prozac samples that expired in 2005 (don't ask why although you should know that I don't think you should ever say no to drug samples when offered) that I am thinking of popping. I mean, do meds really expire? And what does that mean exactly? Expire like you might die right then and there upon swallowing one? Expire like it might not work? (Big deal, you're no worse off.) Or expire meaning the drug company didn't want to get sued should a mom in her 40s who suddenly lost her sense of humor decide to take 5 instead of 2 just in case the potency died down over the five years its been sitting idly under a counter? This is hypothetical --- please don't send an ambulance to my house if you know me. That will just piss me off even more.

PSS -- My "PS" was not a cry for help. If I take any, it will be only one. Two tops. I mean, maybe three but nobody died from taking three expired pills. Relax.

PSSS -- Did I used to use so many parentheses? God, I'm annoying. Also, the font looks different -- I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO WORK MY OWN BLOG ANYMORE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!!!!