Regular readers of this space know I’ve spent a significant portion of my adult life making up for the sins of my childhood. However, this weekend marks the day of the most egregious offenses perpetrated against my mom by my six siblings and me. The way in which we “celebrated” Mother’s Day did less to thank my mom than it did cement her case for canonization.
To begin with, the day itself was usually an afterthought. Somewhere around Friday or Saturday someone would notice the large red circle around the second Sunday in May on our kitchen calendar. “Why is tomorrow circled?” my brother would ask before resuming to root around the fridge for something to eat.