It’s my cat’s birthday, or close to it, gauging from her approximate age when I brought her home. It is also Mother’s Day weekend, and I can’t think of a better metaphor for motherhood than the time I had too much wine and adopted a kitten.
Drunk Me is very susceptible to kittens. She is, in fact, responsible for 100% of the cats in this house. That bitch is also responsible for 50% of the children, although the circumstances were slightly different.
Either way, give me enough wine, and someone is getting a little p….
I tried to recreate the picture I use for my profile but she no longer wants anything to do with my feet and also she bites much harder when I try to step on her now.
That hasn’t turned out to be a good metaphor at all.
I wrote a sentimental post for Mother’s Day a couple of years ago. Back when the worst fight I had to break up was over a dirty popsicle stick on the floor of my car (“But it’s MINE!” You are FIGHTING! Over GARBAGE!) and it wasn’t that hard to segue that into a
competition game over who could clean (my car) faster.
Now I’m lucky if I can get them to flush.
Which brings us to the title of this post, which I just changed since I figured out the cat thing wasn’t working.
This is what I want for Mother’s Day: just once, I want to understand where all the plungers are hidden.
I know we have them. I bought four commercial grade plungers, and strode through Lowe’s to the cash register swinging two in each hand to the song in my head. And I put one in each bathroom.
And now this happens all the time:
Me, upon entering my bathroom: Ew. *flush*
*shrieks as water and various detritus begin to rise*
Me: WHERE IS THE PLUNGER???
Son: I dunno.
Me: I NEED TO UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU ARE EATING! GO GET ME A PLUNGER! WHY DO I NOT HAVE A PLUNGER??
Son: Daaaaaad! Where’s the plunger? Mom plugged the toilet and she is freaking out again!
Dad, from the basement: What?
Also a terrible metaphor.
I am scrolling through all of my social media and there is so much Mother’s Day wisdom out there. If only I had time to read it all, I would probably be a much better mother. I don’t feel qualified, nor am I inclined, to try to impart wisdom as I feel like I make it up as I go along.
Superpowers, intuition, useful life experience….I don’t have any of those. I can’t do five things at once, I don’t like to cook, I’d rather play than clean – when people say that “some people should have to take a test to get a license to be a parent,” I’m pretty sure it’s me they are talking about.
I am sure, most of the time, that I am doing everything wrong.
Which brings us to the title of this post, that I just changed because that plunger thing wasn’t working.
I just found this, from my daughter:
The Mother’s Day Song
I love you and you love me
Mom you are the best
The best of the rest
You are the best Mom I got
The world around us would never be the same
If you weren’t gone
It would be the same
I love you and you love me.
She knows I love her. They both do. Of that, I am absolutely certain. They may not know when their next meal will be, but they know that.
I’m the best mom they’ve got. And it doesn’t get any better than that.