ANOTHER MOTHER’S DAY SHOT TO HELL

Perhaps not, but maybe that title got your attention.

We never celebrated Mother’s Day in my house growing up. Or Father’s Day. Mama and Daddy always said it was a card company creation. And that every day is everyone’s day. Plus, Mama always said “There’s a fine excuse for ignoring all my blood sacrifices and daily toil on your behalf every other day of the week! They should call it ‘Excuse for ingrates’ day!” Mama always did have an edgy chip on her shoulder about this.

In Chez Crabby we also do not celebrate Mother’s Day. We think it’s a silly thing. We just call it “Sunday.” And we try to make every Sunday a special day for everyone. That way I am completely free to finish the laundry, make the big pancake breakfast and do all the errands for the coming week without anyone feeling any guilt about it. Oh, I am not complaining. Because if I don’t do all these things, they either don’t get done, or everyone ends up with pink underpants.

I say to these card companies and other manufacturers of check out line products – like flowers, candy, and edible lingerie sold for various annual celebrations, we don’t need your stuff to celebrate each other every day. In real life terms. For mother’s day, Seymour will fold the laundry I’ve done so that I can put my feet up and watch a cheesy movie on SyFy. Fenwick will give me an extra kiss before jumping me in the shower. These things are far more precious and heartwarming than a folded piece of cardboard, ripped from a screaming, innocent tree, proclaiming a false sentiment contrived by someone who I’ve not only never met, but probably would walk over my dead body in the street. Well, perhaps that’s a bit harsh. But you get my point.

We don’t need to give our hard-earned dollars to buy bits of plastic, cardboard or unhealthy fattening treats to tell someone we love them. We just need to hold their precious face in our hands and yell into their deaf ears, “I LOVE YOU, YOU SILLY BILLY!” Well, assuming they’re hard of hearing. Do something sweet for your honoree, be it Mom, Dad, Grad, or whoever. In fact, why not do something sweet on a regular basis? After they get over the suspicion that you’re either up to something or have a guilty conscience, imagine how special every day could be?

We don’t need special holidays to shower special attention on a loved one. If this feels awkward, here’s another suggestion. Put a jar in the kitchen. Next to it have a pad of paper and a pencil. When you feel neglected in a certain area, write down something nice someone can do for you, and then your name and put it in the jar. Once a week, or even once a day if you’re into it, draw a slip out of the jar and that’s what happens. There’s rules. No unrealistic expectational things like “Buy me a car” or “Take me to Paris” or “Wear a dog collar to bed.” It’s about little things like “I want a happy ending massage,” or “I want I.B. to fix me dinner, just wearing a g-string and a smile.” Things like that.

You can think of your own ways to make every day special. Why should any of us have any more days that are “shot to hell?”

Life is short hons. We’re burnin’ daylight. Grab your sweetie’s ears and plant a big wet one and then get busy making the happy.

And don’t forget to clean up when you’re done.

I.B. Crabby

Give us a kiss

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Tell Mrs. Crabby all!