. . . “yelling!” Love, the Id.
Is what was contained in the card the Id (the baby) gave mommy for Mother’s Day.
After yelling a few choice words in my head, and pulling the knife out of my heart, I pulled a classic mommy move . . . I said sweetly “thanks so much”, turned around and left the room to pour myself a drink.
As I reflect on mother’s day (or as I like to refer to it, the holiday from hell where all mommies are set up to think that their children will somehow have a lobotomy and will avoid fighting, kicking, screaming and reminding mommy why it is that she needs cocktail hour), here’s what I’ve learned about Karma:
1) When you decide to enroll your child in school and such child is prone to engaging in activities that result in “Dear Id's mommy” notes, and you haven't had one of those notes in a few weeks, you may find that the teacher’s sweet revenge is to leave your baby unattended with a Mother's Day "gift" (or as I will refer to it cruel questionnaire) that asks an open ended question, the answer to which may be less than flattering!
2) That time you were 16 and you slapped your mom because she was “pissing you off” may result in your mother asking the universe for two wishes – 1) that her child is fertile myrtle and 2) that she has a granddaughter that is just like her daughter! I am certain that somehow the Nana is practicing black magic and putting into the baby’s brain all the terrible things I said to the Nana over the years. My mother must have done something right because the universe granted her wish 3 times over!!!!
|For Show . . .|
|Reality!!! (P.S. The Superego is taking the picture because she and|
Mommy were in San Francisco when the poster was made).
So on this post Mother’s Day Wednesday (I was supposed to post on Monday, but my mommy life hijacked my plans; so, rather than not post at all I figured better late than never.), I toast all the mommies out there who suffer heartbreak that only a child can inflict, while at the same time they enjoy the pure joy and unconditional love that only a child can provide! And now, I must go and put together my wish list for my children . . .