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Ancient, weird mysteries of motherhood

After giving birth to the world’s population, one might think mothers would rate more than a single day to celebrate their contribution to humanity. But, being the planet of spoiled children we are, we allot just the one day. And it’s a Sunday at that.

In the U.S. alone, there are more than 85 million mothers – nearly a third of our nation’s population. In the “mom and apple pie” formulation by which our country traditionally defines its character, mothers are easily 50 percent. And yet, moms get little more than a kiss on the cheek, and maybe brunch.

Q: Why is “brunch with Mom” a traditional way to celebrate Mother’s Day?

A: For us wayward sons coming off Saturday night, breakfast would be too damn early.

The enormity of humanity’s selfishness as regards its moms is rivaled only by our mothers’ own selflessness. From the local (“I carried you in my body for nine months, kid!”) to the global (our yen for pollution has sent Mother Earth into early menopause, hence all the hot flashes), we’re just terrible to our mothers. We never call, we never write, we take, take, take. It’s like we’ve been using Shel Silverstein’s “The Giving Tree” as a user manual – emphasis on “user.”

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