BUILD ME UP, BUTTERCUP

Mother's Day is fast approaching and I've realized that my heart has become calloused to the build-up of this widely celebrated day. Don't get me wrong.... I definitely celebrate my mother and mother-in-law and all the other mothers I know (which is nearly every woman in my life) on Mother's Day. They are life-givers and nurturers and deserve to be celebrated more than just one day a year. Really. They do.

What I mean is that lately I have found that as an American consumer, I am barraged by Mother's Day jewelry offers, radio ads, full, two-page spreads, and the like. As are most of you. You can't escape it. Click on the TV lately, and you'll see Jane Sey.more Hoff.man pushing her mass-produced synthetic diamond heart pendant. Go to a Roy.als game and listen to the 610 AM pre-game in the parking lot, and they will interview players and ask them how they plan to honor their mothers this weekend. Open a magazine or newspaper, and find article after touching article about the women who make the world go round. Americans love their mothers. Yay for our moms!

I should be mushy too, right? I mean, I have a mom. I love my mom. She's the best woman I know. Strong, caring, forgiving, smart, loving, funny, beautiful Mom. She's the best. I'm the luckiest kid in the world to have such a nearly perfect mother. Really. She's always been the best. Even when I was a shitty teenager and hated everything, she was still the best.

So why does my stomach immediately tie itself into knots at the mere suggestion of a Mother's Day advertisement? I can't control it. I don't cry into a pillow. I don't roll my eyes. I don't leave the room. I experience something in my stomach that shifts uncomfortably and uncontrollably and I stop breathing. It's almost like a mild and quick panic attack.

Remember that feeling you got in your high school freshman speech class right before you had to stand in front of 30 judgmental teens and talk for five minutes about the Titan.ic or Medgar Ev.ars? Remember how your stomach felt kind of like it was collapsing in on itself? Your heart raced, your breathing became shallow, your eyes widened, noises swelled to an inaudible roar? That's it. That's what happens when I see a florist peddling beautiful mother's bouquets or a jeweler pushing gemstone and diamond mother's rings.

What the hell is wrong with me? Is this a feeling of jealousy? Is it self-pity? What the crap is it? I need to know so that I can fix it.

My weekend is planned around my mom and mother-in-law. It's going to be all about them. I'm taking my mother-in-law to a percussion show and dinner Saturday night, then spending the entire next day with my mommy. It shouldn't be any other way. Right?

I just want this weekend to hurry and get here so I can focus on the amazing women I call Mom. But I really don't want to see or hear those ads anymore. They remind me of how insufficient I am. Deficient. Broken. Worthless? Maybe that feeling in my stomach is anger. Frustration. Maybe I just need to scream and get it out.

Or cry. I'm pretty good at that. Maybe I'll try that.