The clamor is inescapable. Sentimental advertisements urge us to buy cards, candy and flowers. We’re bombarded with messages about the joys of motherhood. It can be a tough time for many people.
For most of my adult life I hated Mother’s Day. This Hallmark-contrived holiday arrived each May, unwanted, like a command performance at which I was sure to fail. I worried that my card wasn’t nice enough, the chocolates not yummy enough or the flowers not bountiful enough.
Deep down, however, I knew the real reason I dreaded the day. I had a “complicated” mother (read “difficult”).