Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Sunday, May 08, 2005

Love bigger than Costco

My blogger post number has been at 82 for six months because I type and erase (post and then save as draft) SO (voodewishly Pheebously) often. The odds are, you aren't even reading this.

I was spared today. Saved from the pressure of feeling like I should, for some reason (warped mis-placed guilt?) call the "mother" on Mother's Day. She is in Brazil.
Why do I feel obligated to contact the birth vessel (thanks for that phrase Jo) on Mother's Day, when she hasn't ever "mothered" me? Smothered maybe, mothered NO.
I didn't call her last year either, but I was exempt by rage (did I mention that all of her shit is STILL sitting in my guest house?). I'm finding that as the years pass, I don't hate her as much...I just don't give a shit. The absence of her in my life brings peace.

Either way, my Mother's Day was delightful. I slept in and was served breakfast in bed (is it still called breakfast at noon?) consisting of non-artery clogging (fuck off it's my story) omelet with sausage, green peppers, onions, garlic, mushrooms and cheese! YUMMY!

Then the thirteen year old daughter baby sat while the Husband and I spent much of the day at garage sales, estate sells and thrift stores. What better Mother's Day is there, than escaping the little beasts that made you a mother in the first place? ;o) I'm now secure in the knowledge that no one else in the Western hemisphere owns as much red and white enamel ware as I do.
I'm teasing of course, (not about the enamel ware) I love those little beasts more than triple iced coconut lattes....and THAT IS A LOT. Or as my daughter once said to me when she was about three.....I love them bigger than Costco...and THAT IS BIG.

The five year old twin boys made me Mother's Day projects in KinderFarten that made me cry. The ten year old daughter painted a terecotta pot and filled it with Lavender that made me cry. The thirteen year old daughter wrote me a poem that made me cry.

She'll deny everything of course...but here is her poem that she wrote in 6.2 seconds when she finally realized it was Mother's Day:

Dear Mom
I know sometimes you get mad at me
and I try so hard to please you
but please Mom, understand
that I really really need you.

Without you Mom I don't know what I'd do
When I'd go to bed
Without a tuck here and a tuck there
I'm sure I would lose my head.

Hey Mom, I'd just like to say
That I love you lot's
and happy Mother's Day.

This is all you're getting because I can't scan Lavender plants and the pictures the boys drew of me are NOT very flattering (one even drew me wearing a dress...he will be punished).

Happy Mother's Day, Ann, Brendz, Bard, Ciara, Heather, Jo, Keri (not me dumb shit), Rory and every other female blogger mother I neglected to alphabetically include.

Blogger Boys...you had better have called your mothers.

3 Comments:

  • At Monday, May 09, 2005 12:46:00 PM, Blogger none said…

    I don´t know if it´s my extrasensory moodfunk tonight, or the PMS, but I had to cry a little when I read your post. That´s how good it was.

    Thank you for the wishes too!

    I didn´t call my mother either.

    [Best teen-voice immitation]
    I swear on holy crap, I forgot.[/Best teen-voice immitation]

    In response she sent me 5 barfingly sweet E-cards. Can you now say GUILT?!

    I´m picking the phone as we speak...

     
  • At Monday, May 09, 2005 6:50:00 PM, Blogger Phoebe said…

    Keri, your kids are so SWEET. You are doing something right, girl.
    This is the first year I got NO cards. Last year I coerced cards out of them.

    But they made me crepes and chocolate-dipped strawberries, and I loved it, and I appreciate the fact that they are teenagers who really want to separate themselves from the parentals, even if they have to hurt my widdle feewings.

    Your story was good enough to eat. Thanks (burp)

     
  • At Monday, May 09, 2005 8:07:00 PM, Blogger Ann said…

    Great, great post. Please don't delete.

    Happy mum's day to you, too...late, but not too...

     

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