Monday morning again. I could hear the rain before I got out of bed. Stumbling to the door I opened it for the waiting dogs to go out. Each hovered at the door. Watching the rain and slowly wandered back to the bedroom. Our dogs do not do rain well at all. I will have to bodily force them out later. But for now back to dreamland for "H" and "I"
I had a good Mother's Day yesterday. Jer called and wanted to come pick me up to go to church with him for Mother's Day. The very church he had preached on me at last week. How do you tell your child you will not go to church with him, you don't. So of course I went. I dreaded it, you should not go to church when you are in that attitude. Its surely not saintly or something. But go I did. I have to admit the service was good. It is not your run of the mill church that is for sure. I think young people especially would love the services. Jer introduced me to several people. One man looked at me and smiled, "Oh," he said, you are his Mother." I knew the meaning of that remark. He meant I was the heathen that isn't lead to go to church. But everything was going along pretty good until Pastor Phil pulled out two pretty pink gift bags. "This," he announced is gifts for the oldest and youngest Mother's here. Oh no, I looked around in panic at the sea of young faces. I got this sinking feeling who the oldest Mother was going to be and it wasn't the blond woman on the seat if front of me. "No," my mind cried. I do not want to be the oldest Mother, please don't let them ask my age. But they did.
I slid down a little in my seat. Pastor Phil said, "We'll start with the oldest Mother first," he said. Oh, yeah sure, torture me first I thought. Jer sat beside me smiling. We'll start with sixty first," he said. "Anyone here over sixty," Jer grabbed my arm and against my will stuck it up in the air. "Stop," I hissed. It went downhill from there. Every time he gave a year Jer grabbed my arm and raised it up. I slapped him on the leg. "leave me alone." He didn't. Finally he hit a age I wasn't yet. His grandmother was. Thank-you God," I whispered. "Thank-you there was one person in here older than me. Thank you Grandma B, that's what they called her, for being there. A fate worse than death being the oldest Mother there. I have really had this age phobia since my last birthday.
But wait my torture wasn't over yet. The youngest Mother after receiving her gift bag promptly carried it over and gave it to me. The next to the oldest Mother. Everyone said, "oh how sweet." Yeah sure youngest Mother. Just when I thought they were beginning to forget I was so old you brought the attention right back to me. The bag sits now on my dining room table, its pink and white tissue peeking out of the bag. It's like its saying, "Old Mother, old Mother."
Its a very nice gift. And I should surely appreciate it and be grateful the girl was so sweet. But if you want me to be truthful, I wanted to scream get away from me. There's been a mistake. I'm not the next to the oldest Mother. But there hadn't been a mistake. I am just grateful Grandma B was there. Or I'd have really been in trouble. The moral to this story is if you are an older woman and don't want to feel even older. Stay out of churches where the average age is 35 and under. Especially on Mother's day.
But it really was a nice day. Billie came by and brought me gifts. I spent the morning with my son. Talked to both my brother and sister. I also turned out not to be the oldest Mother there. Thanks again "Grandma B."
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