I have a confession to make to my loyal and devoted cult. This will be difficult for some of you to hear and may even throw the tenets of your blossoming pseudo-religion into turmoil, but it has to be said. I think that it’s best if I just come right out and say it so that you can recover from the shock of it all in time to do something productive with your day. So without any further ado or build up, here it is:
I am not a perfect person.
I know that’s hard to believe, but it’s true. Many of you look at me and see only the humble, polite, considerate, and cheerful exterior that I present to the world. Deep down however, I have many character flaws. As one example, I have been told that my slavish devotion to the unvarnished and unembellished truth has ruined many a good story. Another one of my more serious faults is that I am absolutely terrible at remembering “special days” like birthdays (including my own), anniversaries, teacher workdays, and Hallmark days.
Owing to the fact that the rest of the RW clan gets crazy over excited about all of the above special days, I’ve been getting better about remembering them, but it’s been a long uphill process and my family has learned to deal with it.
Yesterday, as many of you no doubt knew ahead of time (thanks for that heads up, by the way!) was Mother’s Day. I am genuinely appreciative of mothers everywhere and I’m particularly fond of a few in particular. I did manage to call my mom yesterday and I think she was so astonished that I called her on the correct day that she didn’t fuss at me once!
Mrs. RW got treated to breakfast and gifts that the girls made themselves and it was all very special and sweet for about 15 minutes. At that point the Gnome decided that it was unacceptable that she wasn’t the center of attention and promptly started kicking the Hobbit in the shins while screaming. This set the Hobbit off and she began screaming back at everyone about how we hate her while she stormed upstairs and slammed her bedroom door closed. Winston, my Faithful Hound, was totally nonplussed by all these shenanigans and used the confusion as cover to eat all the rest of the pancakes cooling on the counter. In other words, it was a perfectly normal Sunday for the RW clan.
To her immense credit Mrs. RW breezed through all this drama with a regal detachment that would have made the Queen herself envious. If there had been any doubt about whose day this was, it was cleared up when she gave me a cool look and announced that, “your children are acting up again and I think your Faithful Hound just stole your breakfast.” And so off I dashed to attempt to keep the house in one piece while we honored Mrs. RW by allowing her to watch some basketball highlight reel about someone no one has ever heard of, ever.
Sometime during the middle of the afternoon I finished cleaning up the kitchen and noticed that my lovely wife was nowhere to be found. I asked the Hobbit if Mom had left for somewhere as the car was missing, but she was passed out on the sofa and the Gnome was drawing on her leg with a marker.
“Honey, stop drawing on your sister’s leg. Did Mom leave?”
“Where did she go?”
“To buy something.”
Normally this report would send my heart into palpitations and I would attempt to report our credit cards stolen, but I remembered that it was Mother’s Day and that Mom gets to do whatever she wants. She returned several hours later holding her shiny new Blackberry.
“Look what you all got me for Mother’s Day!”
I could have been very concerned about spending so much money on something sure to be lost or stolen within a month (she tried to claim is was free, but she was a little bit out of breath like she had been running hard), but Mom was happy on her special day and she didn’t have to pretend to like heart shaped jewelry.
Is there a moral to the overly long and rambling tale? Not really, no. But if I had to make one up on the spot, I would say that it is possible that having character flaws can help things turn out for the best.