mother's day... Nope don't get it

(Ebook to the right. Free chapter. Reviews. Free whole eBook at Amazon Prime. I'll stop now.) What is Mother's Day really about and what does it want from my life? I mean it. What's the point?

It was bound to happen. My anger was about to break loose sooner or later over this. My pressure cooker was about to blow. Usually I reserve my ire for those driving in front of me at 43 m.p.h. in a 45 m.p.h. zone. (You can't do the whole 45? Is it a laziness thing? You refuse to expend the energy it takes to apply a little extra pressure on your big toe?) So this is the state that mother's day has put me in.

Here are these millions of wonderful women around the world more than worthy of motherhood, more than up to the task, who are struggling to get pregnant.

For those women, all mother's day does is send them screaming head first into a gallon of Haagen Dazs. I'm so upset I can't even bring myself to capitalize either "mother's" or "day". (And I'm not even sure Haagen Dazs makes gallons. And did you know that just as 50 is the new 40, 14 ozs is the new pint?)

Women trying to conceive who have yet to become moms, are angry, sad, depressed and anxious. Certainly mother's day isn't doing them any favors.

Then over here, you have women who are mothers. Most of us have had one of those in our lives. That woman who cooked, cleaned, and yelled at us through gritted teeth in the supermarket aisle. So, in return, once a year we honored her for all of her love and tireless devotion by making her something out of tinfoil, macaroni, and a paper plate.

Nowadays, mother's day has become more meaningful. We've expanded our displays of love and devotion for our mothers by taking them to the pancake house or Cracker Barrel. The celebration to that wonderful woman who has given us life is culminated by waiting/rocking outside the building for an hour waiting for them to call your name or number for the privilege of seating your party of 8 at a table for 5 and the joy of getting to know your neighbor as the back of his chair is flush up against yours. As the family joins lovingly to say grace over the table, you are secretly praying that your Siamese twin man behind you doesn't at some point have to get up to pee.

So let's sum this up shall we? Women who don't have kids but are trying are devastated by this day. Women who have kids are treated to a crowded chain restaurant that's going for the World Record for how many children with the same lame mother's day plan can be jammed into a room with 15 tables.

So, who is this damn day for again? I'm fed up. I've had it up to here! (My hand is six inches above my head, making me a whopping 5'7")

Buy my ebook. It probably will give you some laughs. That's it. I've had it. I'm done.