Mother's Day was an interesting affair for me.
The brunch hour was spent in the company of women in their 70's, fighting the onslaught of thinning bones, cataracts and crazy young drivers by staunchly adhering to their code of honor: I'm never so old that I can't kick your @$$
The dinner hour was spent cozying up to a host of related and extended family, helping the kiddies cut their pancakes and watching some of my favorite moms (especially my own) enjoy their designated day.
At work last Friday, strangers kept adding the line "Have a great Mother's Day, if you're a mother." I am not, in fact, a mother, unless you count the long list of furries currently eating me out of house and home. But I appreciate the sentiment. At 35 and (still) single, it's unlikely that I ever will be - though the notion seems to sadden the folks. I proceed through the day knowing that I've missed the boat on claiming this holiday for myself.
Still, I always manage to enjoy the day, hobnobbing with family and doling out those additional hugs to mommy. And I'd like to think that the furries bestow upon me a little extra thanks when they meow and bark.