Monday, June 17th, 2013


Mother’s Day too.
After years of ambivalence, I’ve finally tipped to having an aversion to both.

And I am a celebrator.  I make parties out of nothing.  None events become memorable.
Taking my vitamins became a favored ritual with my California grandchildren.  We lined them up by size, by color.  We measured how many sips of water for each.  We played doctor and each girl had their tray of pills for me.  Party out of nothing.  

There is a kind of “Give your aunt a kiss”  (the one you hate, who smells, who gives you the willies)  demand inherent in the day.

I have a loving and expressive family.  We call.  We send cards.  We express our love very articulately.  We text daily foolishness.  We are connected.   STILL, on Mother’s Day or Father’s Day there is that running tally of who has called and who hasn’t.  Or who will call before bedtime as the kids remind one another of what day it is.

And then there is the commercial aspect of it all that still feels like advertising from The Walton’s era.  Electronic gadgets out of the back of the Sky Mall catalogue proliferate.  Automatic cheese inserts for hot dogs.  Knee cap slimmers.

We were out and about today and saw so many head down dads seemingly tolerating a picnic or walk or fake Frisbee fun.  Over domesticated.

OK. I’ve blown off steam.  I’m not really a cynic.  I loved my dad and mom.
I love my family.  I love to celebrate.  So what’s my problem?
It must be the mandatory, generic nature of the day.
Makes me and my kids rebellious.

I just sat and thought about what would make the day ring true for me. 
Then I laughed.
It would all be too elaborate and not ritualized enough to actually happen.
All our kids called even if laughing about the pressure to do so.
We did  gifts and cards.
We ate special food

I’m back to only ambivalence.


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