Mother's Day, we learn, is 'one of those holidays' Hegemommy faces 'with ambivalence'--but not for the reasons you think: Her tentativeness doesn't stem from Mother's Day's Hallmarkian artificiality, nor for its reinforcement of 'antiquated notions of gender'-- but due to Pieklo's own longtime motherlessness [both before and after her procreator's biological demise].
Pieklo's five-year-old son--out of the clear blue--suggests the May 9th visit to grandmother's gravesite. Yuppie claptrap incoming: I just figured he’d give me the clues for when the time was right, and sure enough, he did. We learn Annette was unstable, addicted and dissolving--though with some not-quite-redeeming positive qualities too.
Once I found out I was pregnant I knew that eventually I’d have to confront both the story of her life and the story of her death. (Hallmark doesn't peddle fatuity in this particular shade of sappy, does it?) Our brutish culture simply offers no template for the absent-overachieving-cliffjumping mother. How is Pieklo going to explain her mother's impact to her toddler? (Surely miniGramsci will demand a discussion-ending peroration from H-Mommy, obeliskside.)
Surprise: Hegemotoddler stoically hoists the globe upon his own shoulders--unbidden--initiating 'the grieving process for a person he never knew.' (Mom was 'totally unprepared' for this unscripted expression of pre-K chivalry.)
Hegemommy promises readers a battle-hardened diy punk mother's perspective--a promise that is frequently followed by the very dribbling suburban narcissism its author pretends to detest. Case in point: Mother’s Day, Graveside. (The post spawns the predicted smattering of you're-so-courageous comments.)
To the dustbin!
