Mothers Day

When I first met my Wife, the thing that impressed me the most, was her ability to operate a VHS. It was a while ago. I stood back in amazement, as she set up a time to record a program, without even looking at the controls, so we could go out to dinner.

Usually, both being Cancerians, we would be home well before the tv show started recording anyway.

The thing which most distressed me about her, was her lax attitude towards the rule of life. She would hang washing without using pegs. She had a bewildering disrespect of authority. She was unable to close a draw or turn off a light. She found it impossible to pay a bill. She had no concept of consistency. Her keys could be anywhere. Frequently in the ignition.

At that time, I thought she would be a terrible Mother. Like that woman who recently left her baby in the transit lounge in Singapore, while she boarded the plane and continued her flight alone.

Which reminded me of a story, when I was flying a while ago.

I was sitting in my aisle seat as the plane was boarding. The only seat in which to plant my cancerous bladder. I noticed an ungainly young woman staggering towards my seat. She was carrying about a 100 bags. She stopped at my row and motioned her head towards the window seat. “Let me help you”, I politely asked. I took all her bags, and chucked them into the overhead, while she stumbled towards her seat and sat down. I sat down. She turned to me and asked, “Where’s my baby?”

However, I was wrong about my Wife. When she gave birth, she completely transformed into a responsible human, and a terrific Mother.

Out of all the crappy ‘Hallmark’ type days we endure, I’ve always considered ‘Mother’s Day’ to be the least offensive. It’s a pretty special profession, given the grossness of the procedures Women undertake to produce life. At both ends of the 9 months cycle.

With this in mind, I went to Harvey Normal to buy her a robotic vacuum for a Mothers Day gift – even though she’s not my Mother (although she acts like it). To be honest, this was something I wanted – but I would pretend. A nice lady helped me purchase the expensive one, and we queued up together to ‘put it through’. In the process of my engaging smalltalk, she asked me to ‘grab a coffee’ with her. I was quite shocked – but also flattered. I regretfully declined and left, ego raised. Our children were of a similar age, but hers were obviously Fatherless. Or maybe not, I don’t know. Whilst flirting, it’s unwise to mention you’re married.

The day arrived. I had to teach an early Mother’s Day yoga class – which became a vehicle for some Mother’s Day jokes. Like, where to put the apostrophe when you have two Mothers and you wish them “Happy Mothers’ Day”. Some were better than that.

I returned home. She was still asleep. I returned to bed, remembering the two things women like on Mothers Day. Not engaging with their children or in sex. The two greatest gifts of all. Eventually we awoke and kids presented some last minute cards and pathetic gifts.

The Roomba was presented to a reserved tepid reception. We named it Bruce, after a builder we’d had in recently, who wandered around aimlessly all day. It performed well and was quickly full of the dog’s hair. It was particularly funny when it went out the front door and headed down Perth Street.

The day progressed like all other Sundays. We resisted Facebook – as we didn’t want to see what all the normal families were doing. I had to work in the afternoon. When I came home, it was decided we would wander down to the local burger joint (flash burgers) and have a Mothers Day dinner. We took the dog, who likes burgers a lot. It was very enjoyable – mainly because of it’s quickness. At the end, my Wife announced she would like another baby. This meant the day had been successful. I did my little explanation on how ships have sailed.

We headed home. I scooped up Bruce on the way. He had made it to Railway Street.