I don’t actually know what “humbug” means, but I want to reach out to all those people who had crappy mothers. I suspect it may be a smaller group than those who had crappy fathers, but let’s save that for another Hallmark holiday.
I had a crappy mother. She was a liar, she was violent, and she was very, very mean. She mistreated me whenever she could – and did wrong to my dad as well. She made him feel that she had married below herself, because she had a high school diploma and he did not. She was unhappy about the closeness between my dad and me. I must have been about five years old when she screamed at me, “Get your own! He’s mine!”
I can say two good things about her: She managed to put on a face to the outside world that netted her some very fine lifelong friends. And she was a model for the character Catherine in my story “We Don’t Say Such Things Out Loud,” in my book, Lillian’s Last Affair.
So to all those who had no luck on the maternal side of things, do not feel guilty for not giving a toss about Mother’s Day. Just be glad you are a grown up and free of the prison of a poisonous nuclear family. And to the rest to you, party hearty, whatever.