Tribute: I Love You, Mom!

Tis the season to feel guilty,
falalalalaaaa-la-la-la-la.
Mourning that the house is filthy,
falalalalaaaa-la-la-la-la.
Screaming kids and lazy father,
falala-lalala-la-la-la.
Makes me wonder why I bother,
falalalala-la-la-la-laaaaa!

Now that mother’s day’s approaching,
falalalalaaaa-la-la-la-la.
Listen to the old-folks’ coaching,
falalalalaaaa-la-la-la-la.
Think of all your rotten mistakes
falala-lalala-la-la-la.
Work, and just ignore the back-aches
falalalala-la-la-la-laaaaa!

Spare me.

Every year I hear the wonderful things about mothers, and I love it, but every year I hear mothers complain because it makes them feel so terribly inadequate.
I think it’s sad that mothers hearing about how wonderful mothers are makes them feel guilty.  Of course they feel inadequate!  They’re are inadequate.
Has any mother really been adequate to fill the responsibilities placed on her?  No.  Has any father?  Of course not.  That’s not the point of praising mothers.  Mothers Day is a day to celebrate YOUR mother.  Was she adequate?  No.  Does that matter?  Of course not.  She loved you, she did all she could for you, and she did a dang good job, under the circumstances, and you love her to death for it.  Isn’t that worth celebrating?

I think part of the trouble is, mothers tend to judge their own weaknesses against their mother’s strengths.  But I can assure you that your mother did the same with her mother.  Celebrate her strengths, and for now at least, forget about your own weaknesses.

Anyway, enough of that.

I think I can say in all honesty that I have ideal parents.  They’ve done an incredible job.  It’s amazing I came out alive, let alone half-decent.  I kept my poor mom constantly on her toes.  I was one of those rambunctious kids who was constantly getting into things – or out of things, or under or over things.
I once snuck out onto the highway.  That’s when my mom learned to hurtle fences.

I practically earned my mom an unofficial Ph.D in nursing with all my scrapes, bumps, bloody knees, sliced eyebrows, amputated fingertips, spurting gouged arms… but I digress.
She must have had a secret Masters degree in psychology, too, because I know she could read my mind.  That’s why I could never get away with doing anything really big.  She never gave me the chance.

Plus she always knew how to discipline effectively.  Whether it was the time I filled the road in front of our house with crabapples or threw a rock at a friend’s forehead, she knew what would always be the most writhing punishment – and it was almost always the same thing.  A lecture.  Not a screaming at – those would have been the easy way out.  She would tell me just what I did wrong, and why it was wrong.  Well that always got me deep, and I didn’t think it was fair that I had to actually learn the lessons when all the other kids in the neighborhood just got grounded for a week.  At least they could do it again someday.

All kidding aside, I love my Mom so much.  She was my closest and dearest friend growing up, and I could always talk to her more easily than anyone else in the world. I love you Mom!

mom-small

Now if any of you mothers out there are feeling guilty – or even if you’re not, just write a tribute to your own mom.  Don’t compare yourself with her, just tribute her properly.

Don’t worry, you’re kids will do the same someday.

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