Doing my part to disrupt the space-time continuum.

Even if you’re one of those who thinks Mother’s Day doesn’t have anything to do with you, you’re wrong.

You know a mother. You came outta one.

In fact, you probably came outta her while as she screamed.

You might have come outta her while she cursed your dad for EVER coming near her with his pants around his ankles.

She might have even threatened him with a Lorena Bobbitt if he ever so-much-as THOUGHT about doing it again.

I know you don’t like to think about your parents having sex or about the fact that your dad has a weener but that’s how you got here so maybe I’ll save all that creepy stuff for a Father’s Day post. But in the meantime, on Mother’s Day, I just want to remind you of an important fact: You OWE your mother.

It is not my intention to take the gushy, lovie sentiment out of Mother’s Day by bringing up the memory of the indescribable pain you caused your mother while giving birth to you. But you did. And it was a pain that triggered a guttural, primal wail heard for miles at 2 am on that cold winter night when your life was just beginning and she thought hers was ending.

It’s because of this pain that you OWE your mother and it’s why she sometimes uses guilt to move you in a more intelligent direction. You owe her! You do. You owe her big time.

On this Mother’s Day, tell your mom in your own special way that you’re sorry. Tell her you’re sorry that you woke her up in the middle of the night. Tell her you’re sorry that you didn’t just slide outta there like a little pickle wrapped in Saran Wrap. Tell her that for enduring the pain of your birth and for still loving you after those wretched teen years you heaped upon her that she is your hero!

Go. Call … or Write a letter or send 50 ecards or utter the words in your prayers … Just tell her you’re sorry you weren’t a pickle.


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