When Congresswoman Patricia Schroeder was asked how she could be both a politician and a mother, she replied, “Because I have a brain and a uterus.” On the second Sunday in May we celebrate Mother’s Day- a day that historically has tended to salute only one of the organs Schroeder mentioned.
Mother’s Day evokes all sorts of emotions in people. Generally, attitudes fall somewhere between the cynical “Bah Mumbug” stance, which holds the position that Mother’s Day is perpetuated by retailers as a way to line their pockets, and the “Apple Pious” belief that motherhood is a sacred calling placing mothers right up there with doctors, popes, honest politicians, and switch-hitters batting over 300.
It is in this abyss between emotions that most of us decide just how to celebrate Mother’s Day. Do we ignore it? Do we give it a passing mention with a token gift? Do we create a spectacle of love worthy of a mini-series starring Melissa Gilbert?
If we decide to give a gift, the process of choosing the gift is not terribly difficult because mothers love anything you give them – even the mother who every year says “Don’t buy me anything; Save your money; I have everything I could ever want.” Flowers and candy are traditional choices, especially for people who need to send their gifts across the country. Clothing, perfume, photographs, dining out, knickknacks, are also common choices. But retailers will try to persuade you that their product is an excellent choice, so you will need to use common sense. Think twice before wrapping up that power drill, gerbil, Meatloaf’s “Bat Out Of Hell” CD, steam iron or Monistat 7 gift set. And even if you do find choosing a gift to be fairly easy, you will soon discover that choosing a Mother’s Day card is hell.
Went with my friend Lisa yesterday to see “Hidden Figures. “If you haven’t seen it go see it. It is an eye opener. I was amazed to see the IBM Selectric being used and told Lisa I didn’t think that was around until the 1970s. Came home and looked it up and it actually was launched in 1961. I loved typing on the Selectric and miss the sound it made when you were typing. Now I want to buy one.
Back to the movie … it was an eye opener. What those women put up with to have a job was beyond the pale which, by definition, means outside the bounds of acceptable behavior, but in this case it has a double meaning because it was beyond what the pale (aka white) people had to put up with or probably would put up with. At the end of the movie when they show real pictures of the women who were depicted in the movie I started to cry — it was as if the movie morphed from “entertainment” to “reality.” I admire those women more than I can say — well I can say it but I don’t know how.
On a lighter side (again literally and skin tone wise) — at one point in the movie — during a scene much like the one in the photo below — I turned to Lisa and said “It looks like the cast of The Book of Mormon.” And it did.
An idiot in the Oklahoma senate said that women’s bodies are “hosts.” If this is true than a penis is an intruder and can be shot based on the stand your ground mentality.
But, of course, it is not true and this “man” is trying to control something that men have tried to control since the dawn of time. In the words of Obi-Wan Kenobi
“IF YOU STRIKE ME DOWN, I SHALL BECOME MORE POWERFUL THAN YOU CAN POSSIBLY IMAGINE.”
The harder you try to control us, the more powerful we have become.
To call a woman a embryo host is not only stupid, but it degrades the bond between a child and a mother and then a family. I think a child senses the difference between being born into a place of welcome as opposed to being the product of a host — a parasite of sorts.
Some people like to throw around the words “Life begins at conception.” I believe life begins at connection. When the parent(s) and the family feel that immediate connection to this child. I like to think that a baby can feel that connection — that he or she knows the joy of being wanted and loved the moment of birth, or even before.
I remember seeing a big billboard many years ago proclaiming life begins at conception. My immediate thought became part of my stand-up routine:
I wear sensible shoes. I’ve worn sensible shoes for most of my life with the exception of those horrible patent leather shoes that were forced on me to wear to church. If it wasn’t for the fact that I could rub the heels together and make one of the most irritating sounds you’ve ever heard, they would have gone missing along with a bottle of bad tasting cough syrup and a note from my teacher about my inability to concentrate.
Part of the reason I wore sensible shoes is I inherited my dad’s wide feet and the fancy shoes were not made for wide feet; apparently they weren’t dainty enough. But I did try to squeeze my feet into more stylish shoes but they hurt and I don’t care how nice they looked, I prefer to not have my feet hurt to wearing shoes that are like small torture machines.
The other reason is I just didn’t want to wear the shoes with heels that a klutz like myself could and would easily fall off of and break some bones. They were also way too expensive. When I see shoes that cost hundreds of dollars I can’t imagine buying them. I spend a lot for a good pair of shoes but not hundreds of dollars. If I want to fall and break something it would be cheaper to just throw myself down the steps.
So the “Sex in the City’ gang can have their designer shoes and gigantic shoe closets — I’ll take my sensible shoes and one of those shoe bags that is hanging on my closet door. Now if we are talking about sensible socks vs. funky socks I am definitely on the side of funky.
I was divorced in February of 1980. It was a rough couple of weeks. Two weeks before my divorce my dad died. There was a lot of loneliness going around back then.
But years later I would start having parties and bringing cake to work for my “divorcaversary.” My favorite was the cake that said “Love Stinks.” Since my divorcaversary is on February 11th it was a nice touch to have the cake right around Valentine’s Day.
I have had relationships since my divorce but nothing that stuck, and more than a few that stank. It’s part of the charm of life.
I tried eHarmony and Our Time dating services but for me it was more off key than harmony and definitely not my time.
But I really don’t care — there are a few times when I think it would be nice to be part of a couple but in general it’s not a big deal. And now that I’m retired the pickings are slim and the desire is anorexic. Don’t get me wrong, I would never say no to love but I’m just not expecting it to show up. Of course I didn’t expect arthritis to show up and here it is.
You just never know what life will bring your way so be ready for adventure, but watch where you are walking.
The Huffington Post has an article on 13 Reasons Why Women Should Masturbate Regularly. I haven’t read it because I’m thinking one is enough. I’m actually sad that someone would have to be talked into it. It seems so obvious — who would need more than one reason. I’m sensing a series of articles:
13 Reasons Why Women Should Brush Their Teeth
13 Reasons Why Women Should Not Date Serial Killers
13 Reasons Why Women Should Not Jump Into Hot Tar Pits
So these are my guesses at the 13 reasons:
Anything to postpone cleaning the closets
Nothing good on television
Already on Santa’s naughty list so go for it
Because Ted Cruz would disapprove
You’ve gotta fever and no cow bell
Keifer Sutherland (need I explain?)
You’ve run out of chocolate
The internet is down
You’re on hold for customer service with Comcast
All your eHarmony matches could be guest stars on Criminal Minds
It’s the first day of the rest of your life so start it out with a bang (or sorts)
The Huffington Post said you should
Of course there are some people busy somewhere (Fox News) preparing a new list — 13 Reasons Why Women Shouldn’t Masturbate Regularly:
Puts pressure on men to do something other than the clapper (roll on/roll off/the clapper)
Less time to do their housekeeping
If God had wanted you to have orgasms you would be men
Who is going to drive the car pool if women are all home getting jiggy with themselves
Ted Cruz would disapprove
There is laundry piling up
We’re sure there’s something in the bible forbidding it
You would muss up your housedress
Because if you do, the terrorists win
These floors aren’t going to mop themselves
The Elf on the Shelf will report it to Santa
That’s a man’s job (insert your own “job” joke here)
That’s how communism gets a hold of you
Either way it’s obvious that Santa and Ted Cruz are involved in this discussion, and isn’t that sad.