Monday, May 9th, 2016


First let me say, that I had a nice Mother’s Day. Not too much fuss. Nothing overblown. Felt loved and appreciated. Eaaaaaaasy day. I remember Mondays after Mother’s Day at work. Mom’s would share crazy stuff their husbands did or did not do. New moms would be hurt if new dad’s didn’t make enough fuss. Some kids would call, others wouldn’t. Or some family member would make it too big a deal or ruin the day with selfish expectations. Non-moms would feel out of it or irritated. Flowers at work would be a kind of mandate.

My just right day got me thinking about how we, as a culture, pump things up so. I would like to forbid superlatives for a month.  Why do we need to use every ounce of our potential? Why do we all have to be powerful, the best, the most unique and special and push push push to perfection?  What if none of us is that special? I do cringe a little as I write that.  But you get the idea. We are not so amazing, so awesome much of the time. So let’s give ourselves a break when we are mediocre, average and not so noticeable! Heresy or relief?  

I don’t mean to be heading into curmudgeon hood but noticed how satisfying a low key Mother’s Day could be. I had a good Mother’s Day, not the best ever, magical, unbelievable Mother’s Day–a good one. 


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