Mother's Day is a boom for brunch-serving restaurants, florists that deliver nationwide and, of course, all things Hallmark. It's also a day potentially riddled with guilt -- yours. Just forget to call and you'll experience ice that could sink the Titanic.
She says she understands but she's hurt. After all, she gave birth to you and it was long and painful. My mom couldn't remember the pope's name and number but she told the tale of labor and delivery as though it happened yesterday. She was prone to exaggeration and went for maximum effect in her stories so my newborn head grew bigger with every telling -- kind of like fishermen who talk about the one that got away.
Mother was the Empress of Guilt. When we misbehaved she'd pray for us. I mean down on her knees seriously fingering the rosary beads. The prayers were soft, but the dedication -- please help my disobedient children or something in that vein -- was loud enough for all to hear.
She was the Mistress of the Heavy Sigh. Hers were Tony award winning sighs that oozed serious disappointment. In a contest between Olivier, any of the Redgraves and my mom -- well, it simply wouldn't be a contest.
1 comment:
I have personally given hundreds of
Academy Award winning performances in my career as a mother. Thank you to all, you know who you are.
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