Surviving Another Mother's Day

The google logo has changed, and it is therefore now officially Mother's Day -- at least on the east coast and in the Midwest.

My mother's dead. She's been dead for nearly 30 years.

We have nieces who are mothers. Some of these nieces weren't even born when my mom died. She died when she was four years younger than my current age.

I am now four years older than my mother.

Spouse 1.0 always takes Mother's Day harder than I do. His mom's only been dead 22 years. Plus, he didn't live his entire childhood with the expectation that she'd die. He didn't have as much of a chance to get used to the idea.

So, he'll want to stay home. Stay in bed. Avoid any and all media that would try to get him to buy pink carnations, sentimental necklaces, and/or lacy lingerie for the assorted mothers in his life.

I won't want to stay home. Hunkering down and trying to avoid the day only makes it bigger, more important, more obvious.

So, tomorrow we'll get up, shower, dress, and go about our normal Sunday business as best we can.

At Starbucks, the nice young man will smile and say, "Happy Mother's Day." I'll just smile back and say, "Happy Mother's Day to you, too." He'll look a little startled (they always do), and then he'll pour my venti decaf, take my money, and wish the next customer a Happy Mother's Day.

I can handle that.

At church the pastor will have all the mothers stand. He'll tell them how wonderful they are for being mothers. He might preach a sermon on how to be a great and godly mother.

I can even handle that.

After church, we'll go to lunch at the usual place. A perky young lady will be at the door handing out pink carnations. She'll say, "Happy Mother's Day." I'll smile, shake my head, and say, "I'm not a mother." If I'm lucky, this year's designated flower-pusher won't insist. I really won't want to destroy her cheery mom-friendly mood by growling, "I'm not a mom. I don't have a mom. And I really don't want to be forced to take a damned pink carnation to remind me of the fact that my mom's been dead for thirty years."

The insistently delivered pink carnation: That, I don't handle so well.

I used to think that Mother's Day wasn't so hard on the motherless people who have children. Then I discovered that my sister-in-law (who is a mother and has both a daughter and a daughter-in-law who are mothers) loathes the day.

Tonight, I don't look forward to tomorrow. But when tomorrow actually arrives, I'll be fine. I'll get up, have my breakfast & my coffee. Read the newspaper. Maybe even start working on St. Anne's Reel. We'll go to Starbucks, church, lunch. We'll go to the Byron Berline concert.

But, just for the next 24.5 hours, I think I'll avoid google and its pink carnation logo.