Writer’s block is a terrible thing.
I don’t even do this for a living.
This is not how I feed my family, and yet I feel this immense pressure to write.
I have not sat at the computer to write in just about a month. We are closing in on one year of blogging and all of a sudden it just stopped. Each progressive post, I put more and more pressure on myself to write more and more quality posts. I began to imagine that people were actually reading this, and then it all fell apart. So no more self-imposed deadlines, I’ll write when I want to and when I have time. You’ll read it to…Glaring at you intently.
Mother’s Day is the perfect opportunity to get back in the saddle. I have some strong feelings about Mother’s Day, in general, and my wife, in particular.
Before we get to the wife, I have some news for you.
Mother’s Day is a load of crap!
Never mind that, like Valentine’s Day (another holiday I don’t really celebrate), it was invented by Hallmark.
Think about what we do for our moms on Mother’s Day — breakfast in bed, a day at the spa, brunches in their honor.
Why do we do all of these things for them?
Well, if they are good mothers, then they have spent the previous year at home, taking care of the children, cooking my steak just so, and making sure that your house shows no signs of the zoo that is raising children. (sarcasm on)
What do we do on Father’s day? Here are the kids…take them to the actual zoo. Why? Well, if they have been good fathers than they have spent the previous year providing for their family at work. If they did it right, than they have spent a significant amount of time away from the kids. They have missed their first steps, the first day at school, and, if they are really exceptional fathers, they don’t yet know how the washing machine works. So finally spending a day WITH the kids makes sense…right?
We live in a society where women are made to feel guilty if they spend one waking moment putting themselves ahead of their children. We literally had to carve out a day for them to be relieved of this burden.
Then, there is my wife.
Unlike the rest of you, my wife is a saint. She does deserve a day to feel special. She works her ass off to keep this family humming along and without her me and the boys would be living at the Salvation Army. Well, I would at least. I would be forced to surrender the kids to the state. Even giving them to a pack of wolfs would leave them in a better place than alone with me.
Her importance to the family, in general, and our children, in particular, cannot be understated. When I thought about her gift this year, I knew I’d need to bring it. Here it is…
Seriously, this is how much I love her. This horridly obnoxious monstrosity of outdoor “decoration” is the physical demonstration of what her kids put her through. She loves it, and she had been asking to buy it since she first saw it a year ago.
I had told Glenn that it was a secret. He made it a day and a half before Tammi said she wanted him to tell her over and over how much he loved her on Mother’s Day.
“No, Mom we got you a rooster.” I was outside at the time. All I heard was both boys shouting Cock-a-Doodle-Doo!!!
I know what you’re thinking. I should have stood on my principals and refused to celebrate.
Maybe next year I’ll send her off to the zoo. I might even sleep in and go get my nails done.