My Mom doesn't read this blog...actually, she probably doesn't even know what a blog is. But it's apparently customary to say something nice about your Mom on mother's day.
I think my Mom is a nice person. Although I'm convinced that both my parents' favorite was my brother, I think she did a better job than my Dad at pretending to love us equally. My brother and I were obsessed with proving who's the best at anything, even being liked.
Everyone liked my brother more, even the dog. My brother would secretly feed the dog, Sammy, treats so that when we placed Sammy in the middle and both called to him at the same time (to see who he liked better), he would go to my brother, proving that there was nothing I could beat him at. My dad claimed not to have a favorite, but he did lavish more praise on my brother. Ostensibly it was only because he scored more goals, got better grades, or was better at carpentry than me, but even if I had performed as well as him, I secretly think my dad would just think I was showing off.
Although Sammy (and arguably my Dad) played favorites, my Mom tried not to. When my brother and I would quiz her on scenarios involving both of us about to be brutally killed and her only being able to save one of us, she would talk her way out it. If confronted by man-eating sharks, she claimed she would let the shark kill her so that both of us could live. Clearly, she wasn't playing by rules.
My brother claims I was the favorite. I think he's convinced himself of that to assuage his guilt about the countless beatings and methods of psychological torture he inflicted on me. Sort of like the Abu Ghraib soldiers who think what they did was okay because the people they tortured were probably terrorists.
I think that's why I'm obsessed with being the favorite uncle. He gets more face time with the neices and nephews, but if I visit for a few days I'm the favorite unlce by the time I leave. Whether that involves buying my nephew an iPod or playing tea party with my nieces and letting them put bows in my hair, there is nothing I won't stoop to beat him at it.
But anyway, as far as Moms go, she was a good one. She wasn't always perfect, but she did her best and she was definitely a better mother than I was a son.
Sooo..... Happy Mother's Day.