Put them all together...they better not spell MA!

"Don't ever call me Ma!"
If my brother and I wanted to get our mother going all we had to do was call her "Ma" and it was an instant pass to the doghouse. She hated that word. I'm not sure why, but I think she somehow associated that appellation with being an ancient toothless hillbilly. It was bad enough that we were both usually "on notice" to await the return of dad from work to mete out sufficient punishment for our latest transgressions. We didn't need to add the "Ma" cherry to the top of the "whupass sundae" already in store.

Other than the "Ma" burr under her saddle, our mother was always supportive and loving to Steve and me. She encouraged us in most everything we tried...(well, maybe not the smoking and drinking), but the important life changing things like getting grades just good enough to make it through high school and out of the house. If only she had been able to talk the Army out of wanting me for cannon fodder it would have been a damn near perfect upbringing. As they say in the Midwest, "We were fetched up right!" Though, now that I consider it from a distance, she could have been a little more helpful in cluing us in on women. (On further consideration, I take that back. On the job training is BEST.)

Let's see... Where was I?
Oh yes, I was thinking about mom because this Sunday is Mother's Day. And, I do have a thought or two. First of all, I am grateful that my mom is still alive. She'll be 86 this August and though her mind isn't what it once was...Who's is? She still knows who I am and I think would still take me in if I needed a place to crash. Well, maybe not after getting a load of the snoring thing. She would probably even loan me money. Now that's LOVE!

I will call my mom on Sunday and be appreciative of the fact that most of my contemporaries are no longer able to do the same. I will send flowers too, even though I know this is a completely lame gesture. What are ya gonna do? It's MOTHER'S DAY! I'll even forgive her all the "Wait 'til your father gets home" stool pigeon crap she pulled on me. At least it gave me quality time with dad's belt. (If only he had lasted longer maybe we could have enjoyed some different belts together.)

My daughters will, I'm sure, do something nice for their mother this Sunday; probably a more classy gesture than flowers. (Hey, they're chicks.) I know that they're aware.... they got a good one too.