This thing, which may or may not have been written by Washington Irving, is the kind of thing that I see posted to Facebook all the time. Not just on Mothers' Day, but all year. Sometimes it's the mom's birthday, and sometimes it's just for laughs.
Many of us were raised by mothers who bore no resemblance to the sentiment in this, this thing. Some of us had mothers who were an absolute torment to us.
For us, these paeans to motherhood are are acts of violence. They are what is now called "triggers." They call to our minds either the sense of impending doom that we experienced every time we went home as children, or the terrible regret that comes from that lost opportunity to have what many people seem to take for granted. We are still trying to pick up the pieces and build satisfactory lives, and this constant tickling of our triggers is not helpful.
So go ahead, thank your moms. Do in on Facebook, I'm sure that mom appreciates the mention. But let's not overdo it, okay? I'm glad that you are grateful for the great gift that fate has bestowed upon you, and congratulations to your mom for being one of the good ones. Just bear in mind that, especially around Mothers' Day, you are making some people cry.
Now read the story of Philomadre, who, as her name implies, "loved her mother." The story illustrates what I'm driving at here.
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