The 'hood

Everything I know about Motherhood, I learned by watching. By watching I have learned that all mothers are saints. This is on account of how all mothers have performed miracles that confound and confuse me. Creating life being the most profound of those, right along with sustaining that life. If that means convincing their little miracles into believing that broccoli stalks are really tiny trees to be consumed by dinosaurs, bravo. Moms win. Moms rule.
Now let me get this out of the way right from the start: This idea of "unfit mother" that gets all the press and attention when something goes horribly wrong is terrifying for the very reason that I have just mentioned: All mothers are saints, but some are fallen. The confounding surprise and burden of suddenly carrying a life inside your own and being responsible for that life forever. Forever. That can put a hitch in anyone's giddy-up.  And if anyone asks, Joan Crawford wasn't a mom. She bought her way in to that gig. Biology was sending her a message: Joan dear, stick to acting.
Which brings me back to my main point which was to say that all mothers are saints. I can say this unequivocally because my mother raised me and continues to do so from the relative comfort and safety half a continent away. She put up with me, and therefore she has earned her sainthood. The same can be said of my wife, who got mixed up with me and then found herself responsible for the care and feeding of mini-me. Congratulations to any and all mothers who have to put up with anyone who ever turns up a nose at the lunch put down in front of them on a Saturday afternoon. Every sandwich is a gift, as Warren Zevon would tell you, and every day is another chance to thank your mom for all those sandwiches. And books read and shoes tied and noses wiped and costumes prepared and forms signed and rides given and reminders given even though they may not have been necessary because yes they were.
All of those things. Every year on this day we pause and appreciate the way that human beings continue to prowl this planet because mothers made it possible for them to do so. If that means you make her breakfast in bed to make up for all those times she cooked your bacon just the way you like it, then it is certainly a worthy investment. If that means you have to find a card that strains to rhyme with all those things I mentioned above, so be it. And while you're at it, say a little prayer for your mother. Because she's a saint.