Mother's day is a holiday that makes me uncomfortable at best. It's not that I think it's a bad thing to celebrate motherhood... maybe it's just that this is a day that tends to get over celebrated at my church and all the self-flagellation rituals are a little much. Ultimately, my opinion is if you want to show your mother how much you appreciate her and you're only doing it once a year on a holiday so manufactured that the creator of that holiday grew to hate it and spent all her inheritance and the rest of her life fighting what she saw as an abuse of the celebration, you have missed the point.

I was explaining my anti-Mothers' Day stance to a colleague right before I left work early for the Mother's Day Program at The Dormouse's school on Friday, and she said, "Well, you better get used to it now... you've got a few more of these to live through in the coming years." Don't rub it in, lady.

Not that I wasn't looking forward to the school program. I knew it would be adorable and it was. First, all the parents were invited to the classroom where each child had a special recitation about why they love their mothers. This was what The Dormouse read and presented to me after her spot in the show:

I'm just happy she had more to say than what most of the kids said which was, "I love my mom because she gives me food."

This was the other side of the card:

I'm not sure where she came up with the words "loving" and "special" but I swear by everything good and holy that she has not heard those words come out of my mouth. While they did that, their teacher put up on the opaque projector for all to see, a picture each child had drawn of his or her mother. This is me:

And this, inexplicably, is the other side of that picture.

I'm still not sure what Freudian tenant she's exhibiting with that. Maybe I prefer not to know. That was probably the real Mother's Day present of the day.

We got goody bags with, yep you guessed it, a plant in them. Of course this plant was in a terra cotta pot that had been expertly painted by our children so at least there was some thought in that. There was also a poem designed to make us all feel guilty and regret every time we ever yelled at our kids for making a mess or leaving hand prints on the television.

Then all our little devil children met in the cafeteria for a program of songs like Button Up Your Overcoat, where I learned if I eat a lot of candy I'll ruin my tum-tum (payback, I suppose for all the kajillions of times mothers have told that to children over the years), Please Don't Take My Mommy Away, and weirdly, Skinnamarinka Dinky Dink. I'd complain about them using songs that were written thirty years before any of the kids were born, but I knew all the original lyrics to the songs so I'm going to have to remain mute on this one.

I have little else to say on the subject except that when I got to take The Dormouse home from school early after the program (apparently this was also a holiday for teachers) we stopped for ice cream and I manged to score one of our famous interviews with The Dormouse about Mothers' Day. So here you go... everything you ever wanted to know about Anna Jarvis' life long ambition.

Why did God make mothers?
So the boys would have somebody to marry.

How did God make mothers?
He used a miracle.

Or tape.

What ingredients are mothers made of ?
Bones and skin. Duh. (It's nice that she has such respect for me.)

Why did God give you your mother and not some other mom?
He didn't give you to me. Daddy just picked you to marry. That's how you became my mother.

What kind of little girl was your mom?
You were different than me.

How different?

Why did your mom marry your dad?
Nothing. Dad picked you. (Oh, honey, someday we'll have a discussion about the phrase, 'He wore me down.')

Who’s the boss at your house?
The grownups. (Damn straight!)

What’s the difference between moms & dads?
Dads have short hair and Moms sometimes have short hair. Sometimes Dads have long hair like girls. Sometimes Moms wear dresses and skirts - stuff like that - and Dads only wear a shirt and pants or a suit, but sometimes girls wear a suit too. (Should I be worried that this level of focus on clothing might signal a gender identity disorder?)

What does your mom do in her spare time?
She does things with me.

What would it take to make your mom perfect?
My mom is already perfect. (You know what's nice? That I have such an intuitive child who sees straight through to the truth.)

If you could change one thing about your mom, what would it be?
Probably her hair. (Me too, kid, me too.)

How would you change it?
If I had magic or a wand.

No, I mean what would you change her hair to be like?
Red strips and some green strips of hair and some sparkly pink strips of hair and then the rest of the hair would just be all blond. (Apparently, she's also an 80s punk band reject... further proving that this is my child and not the mail lady's.)

What is a mother's job?
Making money. Having children. That's it. (I wish.)

What does a good mother do?
Takes care of their children.

What would you do differently if you were a mom?
Nothing. Except name my baby Mary or Lanatayia. (And little Lanatayia will someday have a discussion with her grandmother about why her mother was focused on such odd names and Grandma will say something to the effect of 'Dude, just be grateful you're not named Enola.')

Whom do you like better, mommy or daddy?
Both. (This girl knows where her bread is buttered.)

What is something your mother is good at?
Cutting and snapping. (Many aren't aware that I have a bachelor's of science in Cutting and Snapping.)

I love my mother because.....
She takes care of me and she gives me hugs.

Why is Mother's Day such a big deal?
I have no idea.

Tell me about it, kid.