Obviously Mother’s Day is an extremely touchy subject when your blog is largely read by people in the infertility community. For those in that community...stay with me...I'm rooting for you as much as ever this week...For those still unfamiliar with the infertility community, it’s the same as a senior living community: A bunch of cranky people who go to several doctors’ appointments a week and whose hobbies include comparing medications and side effects, and asking each other for a second opinion. In fact, the only difference between the two groups is that we’re a little younger and they eat out a lot more. So the $64,000 question here is: Why in the world am I dredging up Mother’s Day two weeks after most women have already rolled their eyes at their husband, thrown the gift back in his face, and asked the rhetorical question as it was heard around the globe simultaneously through clenched teeth in 803 languages: “Do you know me at all?!”
Followed usually by the shocked husband’s standard comeback: “I didn’t have to get you anything for Mother’s Day. After all, (all together now) you’re not MY mother.”
This warm repartee usually sentences the husband to a week of getting the wife’s cold shoulder followed almost certainly by all of her other body parts being temporarily relocated to the freezer section as well.
So most women have celebrated Mother’s Day, seen Shrek every time they looked at their husband for a week or so…and now moved on. But most of you going through conception issues probably didn’t feel much like celebrating and are getting extremely mad at me right now, mumbling under your breath: “I made it through that horrible weekend and now this sadistic bitch with the blog wants to drag me through it all over again?”
I’m sorry if that’s the case. I suspect, however, that some of you haven’t moved on. And now you feel guilty because everybody is telling you it’s time to move on…including you. Mother’s Day was two weeks ago. But maybe some of you still can’t move on.
I totally get it…to make a long story short (my sister’s favorite preface to a story via telephone which usually indicates I have enough time to put down the phone, take a shower, and shave my entire body, including my head, before she gets to the wind-up…a family trait, I suppose.)
Let’s just say there was nearly a twenty year period in my life, nineteen Mothers' Days to be exact, when I was neither a mother nor had one. That’s all I’ll say lest I suck the entire word “Humor” out of “Humor blog”.
So hang in there. If you’ve read my blog before, you know that by the end of the week, Thursday, Friday of the latest, I will have beaten down this holiday so badly, people will be embarrassed to admit they ever heard of it, let alone celebrated it.
Listen I gotta go. I’m going to sit down by the pool in our development. It doesn’t open for another two weeks, but the dues are so high… it’s the principle of the thing. Even if I blister. I’ll talk to ya tomorrow.