Photo Credit: Illustrationsource.com

 
Admit it guys, sometimes we are clueless. We could really try harder. Thank God for our moms, or we would be even worse. The following is absurd fiction. Or is it…?

It’s very obvious that today is Mother’s Day. Why, you ask? Because nine out of ten people in the grocery store this morning are dudes. Yes, I am one of them. I’m sacrificing my sleep in order to be a good husband to the mother of my children, and am at the store buying breakfast items, allowing her to sleep in. 

Upon entering the store, I immediately notice a large group of guys huddled together, jockeying for position, like desert nomads who have come across a small, evaporating oasis. “What the hell is happening here,” I ask myself? “It might be a fight! Fight, fight,” I begin to chant. But as I get closer, I realize it’s only the Mother’s Day cards display (which is always in the front of the store so men can easily find it). Bummer. Wait, I should get one of those for my wife. You know, to be from the kids.

After shoving and clawing to get to the front row of the mob, I see that there are seven cards remaining. Excellent — that’s more than enough to find something that really speaks from the heart. I spot one that boldly states “I Love You” on the front, and grab it. It is already very touching, and I can only assume it will be even better on the inside. I make sure the card fits in the envelope, because so often it seems they don’t, then move on. So far so good.

Next task: Getting food for breakfast.

Because it’s Mother’s Day, a special occasion in my house, I feel like I should get something besides, or better yet, in addition to donuts. Yes, donuts and scrambled eggs it shall be. I get the donuts first, because I know where they are. All men have the uncanny ability to immediately locate donuts (and beer) in any grocery store throughout the country. The government only dreams of one day harnessing this power to use for military purposes. I get to the bakery. Damn, another line of fellows waiting for donuts. I notice that several of them are holding Mother’s Day balloons, perhaps to give to their moms or wives. “Balloons…how immature,” I scoff under my breath. After a short wait, it’s my turn, and I load up a baker’s dozen. Now to start my quest for a dozen eggs.

This store is vast, with so many aisles. Men are walking around aimlessly, their eyes glazed over. I start down aisle number one.  No eggs. I continue on aisles two and three. No luck. I’m hungry, so I eat the thirteenth donut. Suddenly, I spot a young woman…

“Excuse me, what are you doing here? I take it you aren’t a mother?”

“Um, I work here, sir,” she politely replies.

“Oh great, can you tell me where the chicken stuff is?” I expect her to lead me to the aisle that has chicken breasts, thighs, legs, livers, gizzards, farm fresh eggs, etc.

“Chicken stuff?” She looks puzzled. 

“You know, eggs and stuff.” I try not to roll my eyes, but I’m growing impatient.

“Oh, that would be down in the dairy section,” she points to the far opposite end of the store.

I’m extremely annoyed, but try to cordially thank her for the assistance. “Dairy?” I mumble to myself. “Who designs these stores?”

I get the eggs, and after what seems like an eternity, finally get through the checkout line. The pimply-faced sacker doesn’t even offer to carry my bag out to the car. This experience, which started so well by finding the perfect card, has really turned out to be a disappointing pain in the ass. Oh well, I know breakfast will be good – my wife is a great cook. Plus, my tee time is just a couple hours away…

Thank you and Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms (and non-moms who helped raise boys) out there. Hopefully none of you have to put up with any dolts like this guy, but let’s face it, we men sometimes behave like only slightly evolved primates at best. Can you imagine how much worse we would be, were it not for the guidance of our mothers? 

Go enjoy your day, moms — and don’t take any crap from your husbands!

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