We interupt this blog with a special "I Hate Mother's Day" announcement...

I still don't like Mother's Day very much.

However...

There are others who hate it with a white hot fiery passion for reasons only they can explain and those people deserve to be recognized.

*getting on my (wee, tiny) soapbox*

*really, it's more like a palette than a box*

*okay fine, it's a bath mat*

Last year I wrote this post about my feelings about this upcoming Sunday.

(If you haven't figured out what this Sunday is, that would be Mother's Day. Please catch up and don't forget to hold onto your travel buddy's hand. Wouldn't want you to get lost again. Poor dear.)

Since then, many, many people have Googled the words "I Hate Mother's Day" and have ended up here. To you random web searchers, may I offer you a hearty welcome and a scone? Because gurrl, we've all got some issues to work out, now don't we?

As I said last year, I am more than happy to open up this safe place as a virtual support group for fellow pseudo-holiday-for-those-of-the-maternal-persuasion haters. Please, if you're here because you found your fingers flying over your keyboard in a fit of rage, feel free to vent 'til your heart's content.

(Ooh, that rhymed. Sweet.)

You obviously need a space to express your feelings about your mom, your wife, your husband/boyfriend/baby daddy, or yourself and motherhood as a whole. I applaud you for having the guts to write it out, even if you did so anonymously. I hope it helped a little. Here, that scone wasn't very big. Have a cookie.

If, however, you feel more comfortable lurking in the shadows might I suggest you have a gander at some other, very passionate comments on that post and know you are not alone.

Or if you're one of those well-adjusted types - I hear rumors of that strange breed walking amongst us, those with not a hint of chip on their shoulder or darkness in their heart - maybe you could impart some wisdom upon those of us who would like a glimpse into the mind of someone who doesn't go through the day with a grudge, a whimper or a sigh.

As for me, when I used the word "hate" I may have overstated my feelings. Mother's Day makes me sad and I hate to be sad, but I can't hate a day set aside to honor those women who nurture and love those in their care either through biology or other avenues. I can hate the hype but I don't hate the day. Besides, today is beautiful and it's hard to muster such strong feelings of loathing when the sun is shining and the air is warm.* And my husband sent me cupcakes. Diamonds may be a girl's best friend but cupcakes make me smile too. They don't make me sparkly but they make my stomach happy.

So please, go, vent, bitch, cry... Whatever you need to do. Or leave kind, reassuring words. It's all very cathartic, ain't it?



*If you're wondering where the glass-is-half-empty Tania is, come see me tomorrow when it's dark and stormy and I have a cupcake tummy ache. I don't think this life is beautiful crap is going to stick.

I hate Mother's Day and I don't think I'm the only one

I hate Mother's Day.

There, I said it. I hate this damn "holiday". I hate being reminded that my mom isn't around anymore. I hate every PR pitch about it that finds its way into my inbox (but I do take a perverse satisfaction out of deleting each and every one without even opening them. Take that, suckas.). I hate the media blitz surrounding this upcoming Sunday. I hate the television commercials with the happy smiling family and the "You rock, Mom!" recordable greeting cards. I hate going into a Hallmark store and being assaulted with colorful drawings of tulips and sappy sentimental reminders to "Remember Mom!!" with multiple exclamation points. I even hate the exclamation points because they're associated with the sentiment. And I generally like exclamation points. But this week I'd like to forget that bit of punctuation exists.

Yeah, that's hate for you.

I've sat down this week to try to write at least 10 different posts about Mother's Day and they all went straight into the trash after the first few painful lines. I've tried to write one post in particular, even working on four or five drafts of a story I feel needs to be written, only to put it aside to revisit at another, less brittle time. Mostly I've just skulked around the internet or avoided it, and other forms of communication, all together until I can act less like a person you'd like to jab with a pointy stick. That should happen sometime on Monday.... Maybe. I make no promises so have your pointy sticks ready just in case.

While I spent this week sighing and sulking I got to thinking - I can't be alone in my hatred for Mother's Day, can I? There must be others out there who feel the same. I cannot believe I'm the only one because, dude, that would be bad.

So I decided to start an online I Hate Mother's Day support group. Mostly to make myself feel better but also, because I love you. Yes you, over there throwing darts at that FTD florist mailer.

How about it? If you hate Mother's Day for ANY REASON let me know in the comments. And please leave your reason for hating it. Maybe your husband buys crap gifts, or no gifts at all, for you and you're pretty close to shoving him in front of a bus. Maybe your wife makes a ridiculously big deal about being honored and you'd like to shove her in front of a bus. Maybe your mother is a shrew and it kills you to suck it up and play nice for one day out of the year and you'd like to.... You know. Bus. Shove. Splat.

(All metaphorically speaking, of course. We at Chicky Chicky Baby do not endorse the shoving of loved ones in front of buses. Sub-compacts, maybe. But not buses.)

Whatever the reason, leave it here and I'll keep an ongoing link list of those (or do it anonymously, this is a safe place) who dare to say:

"I hate Mother's Day and I'm not going to take it anymore!!"

Hey there, I just used exclamation points. I must be feeling better already.

(Even if you slightly dislike Mother's Day, you can share that too. Misery meet company, company meet misery. Aw look at that, they're hitting it off already.)

-------------

Wow, who knew so many of you hated Mother's Day?

Hello to all of you who Googled "I Hate Mother's Day" and found yourself here. You're in good company so even if you don't feel like leaving a comment (and I know you're there, I can see you. Hi! *waving*), pull up a seat and grab a cup of joe (It's dark, strong and slightly bitter - just like I like my men) because there are a LOT of us.

As promised, these are the people (so far, it's not too late to join the party) who had no problem declaring their hatred for Mother's Day, not including the bunches of commenters who decided to be anonymous (Hey, they have their reasons. I don't judge.):

Misconceptions about Conception
The New Girl
Jodifur
The Redneck Mommy
Flutter
My Bliss
Outdoor Dogs
Amber
Foop

And these are the ones who are just kind of "Eh, whatever. Sometimes it sucks, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes I have trouble deciding what I want for lunch":

Red Headed Wonder
Southern Domestic Goddess
All Things BD
A Moment Captured
KittenPie
Write From Karen
Barking Mad
Spinning Yellow
BOSSY

Killing two bloggers with one stone

Like that would ever happen. I played first base so, consequently, I have no arm. I couldn't hit the broad side of a blogger if I tried.

Not that the bloggers I met this weekend had a broad side. I didn't notice any broad sides. I was too busy trying to talk myself out of saying really inappropriate things like, "Wow, you're hair is really shiny in person. Can I touch it? How about if I just sniff it?" to notice if they had a broad side.

As a matter of fact, I should just drop the whole broad side thing all together. This is exactly what I told myself I would not do when I decided to go off in search of real blogging women, outside of their computers - say stupid shit. I guess I just can't help myself.

To reiterate, there were no broad sides. But there was shiny hair. And, no, I didn't sniff it.

Anywhoo...

Part of my Mother's Day gift to me was to get the hell away from the computer and meet some of these amazing women in real life. So I headed off to the book store - yes, the book store - to meet Boston Mommy, Meredith O'Brien, one of the women writers that inspired me to start my own blog. Meredith recently wrote a book, did you know that? A funny one. A book about motherhood that takes off the gloves and laughs in the face of competi-mommies everywhere. And on Saturday she was at a local bookseller signing copies of A Suburban Mom: Notes from the Asylum - a book that I really must insist that you go and buy right now - and I had a chance to shake her hand and chat with her for a few minutes.

Do you know what? Not only was she gracious and funny but she was also stunningly good looking. Really. Gorgeous in that way that you just can't hate a woman for because she just seemed so genuinely nice. I hate to harp on another woman's physical attributes but it's hard when you're talking with someone and you keep thinking "She's got three kids and her skin looks great. How does she do that?"

It was a pleasure to meet Meredith, and I would have loved to have had more time with her, but her public was waiting and I had bogarted enough of her time already. So I went off to the coffee shop to wait for my next victim blog date with the lady of Cape Buffalo.

And I waited.

And I waited.

(hey, at least I had a good book to read)

And I waited.

When in she came, frantically apologizing, with her adorable daughter in tow. I couldn't fault her for being late because 1) I was sitting in a coffee shop, sipping iced coffee, and reading a book without a toddler trying to get my attention, 2) I'm the one that's usually late, and 3) She had just taken her 7 year old to get their nails done. Would you be ticked off at a mom who took her kid to get pedicures the day before Mother's Day? Didn't think so.

I knew I was going to like Kara as soon as she sat down. Those of you who know her will back me up when I say Kara is just one of those people you want to be friends with. I don't know what it was about her but she put me instantly at ease, which is no mean feat since I'm usually a bundle of nerves when I meet someone for the first time. But then she told me a story about losing one of her cats in my hometown years ago, when she lived no where near my hometown, so I figure we must be cosmically linked some way. Yeah, it's fate. I truly believed after hearing that story we were destined to be BFFs, have slumber parties, and braid each other's hair, but then, as she and her daughter were helping me pick out some books for Chicky, she took a call from a friend who, as luck would have it, is adopting a puppy very soon. And Kara told that friend that she didn't have to search for a dog trainer because she had (to paraphrase) the best dog trainer in the area to recommend to her.

That would be me for those of you playing at home.

I'm thinking of making her my agent. Or my pimp. She can sell me to whomever she wants as long as she keeps saying nice things like that.

I'm so easy.

So, that was just Saturday of my Mother's Day weekend. This doesn't even cover Sunday, a day that started with getting to sleep late, included a picnic and a gift, and finished with Coq au vin and a good bottle of Chianti (somewhere a French chef's head is exploding) prepared from scratch by my husband. The chicken, not the wine. If he could cook and make wine I'd keep him locked in my basement so no one could steal him. But if you had tasted his Coq au vin you might want to steal him anyway. It was to die for.

Come to think of it, I wonder what size shackles my husband would need?

Hope all you moms enjoyed your weekends!