To hell with Mothers Day.
To hell with the idea that we can even begin to give the proper level of gratitude required for a thousand changed diapers or five-thousand sleepless nights.
Fuck this day and all the other Hallmark Holidays.
If you are one of the lucky ones, all these days accomplish is to remind you of how you will never-ever, in a thousand lifetimes, be able to pay back the trillion sacrifices that your saint of a mother made for you.
She literally gave you life!! You were an actual parasite growing inside her. You made her sick. You made her tired. And you selfishly drained the very essence from her body in your insatiable, necessary narcissism.
But it did not end when they cut the umbilical.
You kept taking and taking until the day you had no further use for her and then you casually discarded your mother for some boy or some girl or some job or whatever. And your mother stood there smiling, with her hands over her broken heart, saying how proud she was of you while she died a little more inside.
And this is as it should be.
For we know that being a mother is the most thankless of tasks, so why pretend that we are even capable of honoring those godlike figures that we call mom.
For if one is so fortunate to have a good mother, there is simply no box of chocolates or dozen roses that can ever begin to adequately express the gratitude we should feel. We simply cannot pay it back so we promise to pay it forward.
This is the deal we make with our mothers.
This is the deal we make with humanity.
But this is not why I hate Mothers Day.
I hate Mothers Day for all the people who are made to feel inadequate by this sham of a holiday. I hate it for the gay children who are living under bridges, because their mothers didn’t have the courage to stand up for their babies. I hate it for the children who are improperly touched in their own homes, because they had a mother that made excuses for an abusive man. I hate it because many of us are good at forgetting our mothers 364 days out of the year, but when we see everybody else bragging about how amazing their mothers are, we can’t help but wonder on some level why our moms aren’t like their moms.
And we maybe wonder if it was something we did wrong.
Because that is how we learned to think.
We learned that everything is our fault.
So seriously, Mothers Day can go fuck itself. The last thing some of us need is a reminder that the person that brought us into this world didn’t care enough to protect us from it.
It’d be nice to not have a precious little holiday that reminded those with good moms that they could never adequately repay her, while simultaneously reminding those with bad moms that they started out this life with a severe disadvantage.
Mothers Day, with all due respect (which is none), you can go straight to Hell.
I don’t like you very much at all.
I don’t mean to be rude, but even Bastille Day is better and I’m not even sure what that is.
Nobody likes you.
Please go away.
Oh did I already say that? Okay then.
Buh-bye now. Buh-bye.