Honor thy mother

When my mother was alive, she would always say that she didn’t want her kids to make a big deal out of Mother’s Day. She said it meant more to her that we were good to her the other 364 days of the year. She had seen plenty of people who didn’t treat their mother right most of the time, but made a big show of it on Mother’s Day, and that really bothered her.

It’s good that she felt that way, because I gave her some pretty bad Mother’s Day gifts. I remember one year, I made her an ashtray in school. This was a great gift, when you consider that nobody in our house smoked. But she displayed it proudly for years.

When you get married and have kids, it comes as a shock to most guys to learn they are also expected to buy their wife a Mother’s Day gift. It is never wise to say to your wife in that situation, “But you’re not my mother.” Just buy her something and be done with it.

I took my wife shopping the day before Mother’s Day this year, which is a gift in its own right. I learned early on the trick of making her so miserable when we went shopping that she would never ask me to go again. I’d rather run nekkid through a briar patch than go shopping at a crowded mall or shopping center.

A young woman at work, who is still something of a newlywed, was telling me the other day that she and her husband go shopping on the weekends, and he “loves it.” She said they had gone for about four hours the previous weekend, and he had a great time, going with her from store to store, watching her try on clothes, giving his opinion.

I didn’t want to tell her that unless they were at Frederick’s of Hollywood, he was almost certainly not having a great time watching her try on clothes. But why burst her bubble?

I figured it was wise to just let my wife pick out her own Mother’s Day gift from me, because that way she wouldn’t have to take it back to the store. Of course, one of the things she got was a rug for the bathroom, and we hadn’t been home 10 minutes when she said, “I don’t like this. I have to take it back.” At least it wasn’t my fault.

At one point in the store, she said she might want some new cookware. I pointed out that this might be the same as buying our dog a car. You know, because the dog doesn’t drive.

She didn’t think it was funny, either.

I thought that when my mother died, Mother’s Day would be really tough for me. But I guess because of her attitude towards it, it doesn’t bother me any more than any other day. It’s really just an artificial holiday. You should honor your mother and be good to her every single day of your life. If you don’t, I’m pretty sure you’re going to hell.

I tend to miss her more at other times, like when I’m sick. I don’t care how old you are, when you are sick, or something is going wrong, you want to be able to tell your mother about it. I have been going through a medical nightmare for three months, and I just know that if she was around I would feel better about it.

My mother had dreams of being a nurse, but it didn’t work out. But she had all sorts of medical books and insight and any time I had a problem, I’d call her first, and she usually had the right answer. Like most men, I can be stubborn about going to the doctor and getting things taken care of. But if my mother told me I needed to go, I went, no questions asked.

I have to do an MRI tomorrow and I’m being a wimp and am totally freaked out about it, because I have claustrophobia and just the thought of it makes my skin crawl and my pulse pound. A lot of people have tried to reassure me, but I still wish I could call her and talk to her about it. She’d probably tell me to suck it up and don’t be a baby and I need to go in there and get it over with, and as always, she’d be right.

When I was a newspaper columnist, she would clip out every column I wrote, and she kept it in a scrapbook. She’d probably do the same thing with this blog, though she’d scold me every time I wrote something that “wasn’t nice.”

I don’t get that sad anymore about her being gone. I had her for 42 years, and that’s more than some people can say. Everybody deserves a mama who keeps their columns in a scrapbook, even when they’re a grown man. So if your mother is still alive, make sure that every day is Mother’s Day. You don’t want to go to hell.