If Mothers Day is going to keep coming with a Brunch, I think we have to lay off the sappy cards – at least until the French toast is digested. Who writes these cards? Is this truly how they feel about their mothers?
“You are the river of knowledge from which I drink”. Ahhhh. I’m gonna lose my greasy bacon!
“You are a delicate rose wrapped in lace, forever ready with a warm embrace”. Omigosh. I cringe. My face tightens. My brow furrows. It’s so rhymey and fake.
And what is up with the corny cover pictures? Everything blasted with pink and bunches of flowers. Sometimes other bits of nature make their way onto the front cover too – a dove or sparrow, a babbling brook or perhaps a snowcapped mountain.
The text style tends to be swoopy and fancy. Some cards have raised lettering, ribbons along the crease or onion skin gently embossed with scattered rose pedals. Yuck.
The card makers use the same artwork as they do on get well cards. Why do they feel they need to cheer us mothers up?
Is it because they know we’re going to have to stand in a long, loud buffet line with hundreds of other hungry families?
Maybe the card is supposed to make us forget that we never get the golf day. That’s Fathers Day. They get tee time. We get tea.
Mothers Day embodies the guilt that comes with the job. We never risk hurting anyone’s feelings by suggesting we would like some quiet, alone time.
But how can you resist the little arms wrapped around your legs and the sweet face beaming upward and promising “We’re never going to leave your side today, Mommy, and we’re going to keep asking you to get us stuff so you’ll never be bored”.
Or maybe “You are so lucky that you have kids, Mom, or you wouldn’t have gotten this pink card”.
The truth is I feel more like a mom when I clean out my purse and remove the dinky cars, dried wet wipes and stray superheroes then when I read “you are a calm wind blowing gently through the garden of my life”.
My last card was homemade by one of my boys and showcased crayoned pictures of the family smiling and wishing me a happy day. “Great drawing! You have your dad and your brothers in it. If I’m not in the picture, what am I doing?” I ask. “Oh, you’re doing laundry. When are we leaving for breakfast?”