Mother’s Day

May 11, 2014

I’ve been getting emails all weekend from well-meaning friends.  They all want me to know that they’re thinking of me, that they’re sure this must be a hard time for me.  But, honestly, the only reason it’s hard is because my well-meaning friends are telling me that it should be.  I have no feelings about this day.  I’m fairly content with how it has gone so far.  I went to the last day of the Medieval Congress and heard interesting papers about the afterlives of medieval women and crime and punishment in Anglo-Saxon England.  I’m good.  I’m fine.  I’m not upset that it’s Mother’s Day.

Or at least I wouldn’t be upset that it’s Mother’s Day if people would stop writing to me to say that I must be sad today.  If they didn’t feel the need to pick and choose the days that I’m supposed to be sad.  Because today I’m not.  Except for the aforementioned frustration, of course.

Honestly, I haven’t even thought that much about the fact that it is Mother’s Day.  Like I said before, it’s the last day of the Medieval Congress.  This always falls on Mother’s Day.  So Mother’s Day is usually kind of odd.

And then there’s the fact that my dad was in a car accident on Friday evening.  He’s okay, but he was banged up enough that they kept him all day Saturday.  (I just had to take a break in writing this post to answer a call from him saying that he was finally home.)  So normally, my parents and I would have all been at the Congress, and then we would have done something for lunch to celebrate.  But this year, well, I’ve been thinking a lot more about my dad today than my mom.

So while it is good to know that my friends are thinking about me today, I wish they would… I don’t know… say it differently.  A simple “thinking of you today” is good enough.  Don’t go on to tell me how you presume that I must be having a hard time today.  I’m not this year.  And I doubt I’ll be having a hard time next year.  After all, it will once again be the last day of the Medieval Congress.

P.S. Yes, I did go to the Medieval Congress yesterday.  My dad implied quite clearly that he thought I should go to the Congress instead of sitting with him and my mom at the hospital.  And when I talked to him yesterday evening, he explicitly stated that he was glad that I’d done that because he really hadn’t wanted me to go visit him at the hospital.  It was, if nothing else, an excellent distraction.


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