Tomorrow is Mothering Sunday, the British equivalent of Mother’s Day. Its existence amuses me, ’cause it meant that it cock-blocked my unaware stateside friends and family on wishing me a happy first Mother’s Day last year – I so nice. But to be fair, Mothering Sunday is the
real original Mother’s Day – t’other was unfortunately commercialized to the point that its original inceptor got rather cross at it all and even ended up getting arrested for disturbing the peace.
Of course, I’d be lying if I said that it wasn’t commercialized on this side of the pond as well. I’m smilingly beatifically upon my 10 roses (they were, apparently, half the prize of a dozen. I’m fine with this *giggles*), and wondering what silly-cute cards await me and my mother-in-law on the morrow. I’m also wondering whether or not I’m going to grit my teeth and slap on a skirt knowing how much it makes my mother-in-law coo, and makes my skin crawl. I HATE compliments that come from being dressed ‘correctly’, ie, like a girl/woman should stereotypically be dressed. I know she’s not specifically doing it that way; how could she, when she has no real female experience in her life?
I guess I’m only concerned about it because she does the same if my husband puts our little one in a dress or skirt. We’ve only done it a handful of times, because we don’t deem it practical garb for the tot on the go; we’d rather enable her to get around and do her little baby things than to have a dress up dolly that you’re forced to make sit still. I don’t want a passive pretty – I want an active tiny-person. I rail against media trying to insist that my child should be a passive pink princess, or a walking advertisement. I refuse to let advertisers and society tell me that I should be depressed with them (I’m depressed enough as is, thankees! *grins*), and that buying their product will fill a gap that I never knew I had in my life. I refuse to let society insist that I join their guilt trip, that I should feel that spending makes up for time sacrificed that should be spent with my family. That I should spend my time in playgroups and after school clubs making up for… for what? For being a victim of my own fallacy? I think I’ll just avoid the trap, thanks. 😉
Anyways, I realize I wandered far afield… I do that sometimes. So sure, I’ll join in with the card and cheapen this august holiday, but I’ll also come bearing one of Mum’s favorite treats – home-made meringues. Heck, I’ll even grit my teeth and call across the pond and check in with my mother there – it might not be the official holiday, but that’s not the point either. The point is to give some of my time to her, to confirm our relationship, and that will definitely be done.
And now – I’ve got food to make, yeehaw!