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Mother’s Day – Another day, another load of dishes

 

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who has a love/hate relationship with Mother’s Day.

Of course, I know this randomly chosen day is really just a BS marketing gimmick to sell cards, flowers and cheap perfume. I know it means nothing in the larger scheme of things, but this doesn’t stop me from feeling… just a little let down.

It’s the same feeling I get after Valentine’s Day or an arranged blind date:

Really? This is what you think of me??

Every year, instead of giving me what I actually want (a bottle of gin – the good stuff and a whole day off) I end up getting crappy home-made cards.  I keep them, of course.  I can’t throw out any of the ugly shit my kids make because, gosh darn it, I’m a sentimental fruit.  Here is a sampling of past Mother’s Day cards I’ve gotten over the years.

  I’m pretty sure I’ve heard this joke before

 

And then there’s the one I got from my husband as a joke/hint

But by far and away, the best Mother’s Day message I’ve gotten this year came in the mail yesterday.

download and print to prank your mom or anyone else who needs a good scare.

 

A Tiger Mother’s Guide To A Top Notch Mother’s Day

Modern Parenting Manual – unless you’re a Tiger Mom

You know the worst thing about being a modern woman? I’ve been trained to appreciate the potential value in everything. Like a cubist, I contemplate each situation from every angle, which makes reality seem fucked up, much like one of those paintings. It also makes it difficult to take a hard line on anything. A lack of black and white reasoning makes parenting very challenging.

To tiger mother or not to tiger mother, this is the question.

During the summer, when my entire life revolved around the summer swim club, I spent a lot of time with bonafide Tiger Mothers. At first, we barely acknowledged one another. After all, what could I ever say to a woman, with zero facial flaws, who dresses in Gucci to watch her eight-year-old swim lengths?

While I can’t imagine what she might say to a spotty looking woman, hunched over her Starbucks cup, muttering about stupid rules that prevent her from throwing a piss-stained mattress in the alley.

Swim club Tiger Moms and I come from two different worlds, but eventually, we found the humanity in one another and built a connection. After one particularly lovely exchange, I say casually, “We should get the kids together for a playdate.” (more…)

Open Letter To The Algorithm Oracle

Dear Omniscient Cloud Oracle:

computer-geek

This may be the Facebook Oracle who affects my future

You’ve always been there, anticipating my secret thoughts, then poking those sensitive, insecure spots. Like a comfortable, yet emotionally abusive boyfriend.  I want out and yet I love you because no one else will ever know me like you do.  

I’ll never forget when I first had my babies and went on a posting rampage, sharing those typical first-time moments: first smile, tummy time, first bath.  And in response, you started sending me weight loss ads. Only you knew I still had 30lbs to go before my post-baby body would be fuckable again and your daily reminders really helped. So. So much.  weightloss-ads

It seems like just yesterday you once again portended my body image issues with advertisements for facial rejuvenation services and breast augmentation. I used to get these in my inbox at least once a week and wonder as I scrutinized my pores and floppy tits: “Did someone complain?  How else would you know?”

If I think really hard, I can remember a time when I may have searched “Single mother’s housing options + Vancouver”  and “How to survive on one income” during a big fight with my husband.  But it was hard to hide my feelings of restless and resentment wcheating-sitehen both my Facebook page and my inbox were flooded with ads for divorce lawyers. You may be disappointed to know my husband and I worked everything out – and without cashing in your coupons for Tinder and Ashley Maddison, but thanks for those thoughtful suggestions.

Timg_2650oday you sent me this ad.

I don’t know how to interpret this and it actually fucked me up a little because I just got through a mid-life crisis and shit like this actually makes me regress a little. I’m hoping you’ll read this blog or sense the intention behind it and consider sending me alternative ads for rock concerts or experimental theatre shows. Or better yet, a coupon offering a heavily discounted membership for a wine club.  Just a suggestion.

Sincerely yours,
Maia

What lovely little tidbits is the Facebook Oracle sending you?  Let me know.

And also subscribe and/or share because it will greatly improve my sense of self-worth and general well being. Thank you.