Early Mother's Day

 So the Ds and their men are headed to the Formula One race Sunday, which is causing an early Mother's Day for us. Wifey and I are leaving around 3, fetching D2 on Miami Beach, and heading to Shorecrest to spend a few hours with the Little Man. We have dinner reservations at 7:30 at an Argentinian place right by D1 and Joey's house, after which we'll drive D2 back to her place. I told her never Uber when Dadber is free.

I thought about getting Wifey something for MD, even though she my baby mama and not actual mama. And then I hit on the idea that always is a good one: tzedekah. I gave a donation to Lotus House in her and D1's honor. D2 is a great dog mommy, but that's different.

Lotus House is amazing -- it's the largest shelter in the US for only women and children. NO men are allowed. Wifey and I think the Ds have been there to visit -- it's an amazing place. The founder was a corporate lawyer who married a very rich older man. After their divorce, this became her life's work, and it's soaring.

I figured better to help some moms whose decisions about MD are tougher than the mothers in my orbit. D1 agreed -- sent me a beautiful email. I know Wifey and D2 agree, too.

Of course, I think about my mom on MD. Wifey just found a picture of herself outside of her parents' candy store, circa 1965. She was dressed like the Madeline cartoon. It was in Garden City Park.

It's funny -- I was living just a few miles to the east, and I was 4. A local lady, Mrs. Nash, ran a primitive preschool out of her house, and several neighborhood kids were sent there. I attended for a few weeks, but wasn't happy that going prevented me from watching "Leave It To Beaver" reruns -- my favorite show. I told Mom I didn't see the need to attend, and she let me have my way, as usual.

D1 said it was an early example of my charming passive aggressivity. She was correct. I remember about that time, my Dad said we were going to East Broadway School, where I would attend kindergarten the following Fall. I was to get a sugar cube to eat. Of course, it was the polio vaccine -- I still remember the nurse putting it in my mouth and telling me not to chew it, but to let it melt.

Ah, Mom. My memories of her come into focus when I was in kindergarten. She'd pick me up in her 1965 gold Pontiac Catalina, and we'd drive to McDonalds on Hempstead Turnpike for lunch, which we'd eat in the front of her car. The glove box door had little indentations for cups, and I would put my orange aid there.

After lunch, we might shop. If there was a reason, like a positive school report from Miss McNamara, I might get a Tonka truck. It was a lucky, happy childhood.

Ah, Miss McNamara. I actually looked her up about 10 years ago -- she was retiring as the longest serving teacher in the Levittown School District. We emailed for awhile -- I guess she's in her 80s now -- never married. Supposably, as Miamians say, it's because she was closeted, and long time partners with my pretty third grade teacher Miss Dempsey. Ah -- the secrets people had to keep back then.

But after tonight, we'll have celebrated MD properly. Sunday I'm driving to the Grove to pick up D2 and Jonathan's enormous dog -- they don't want her to be left along all day while they're at the auto race. D2 is indeed a devoted dog mommy -- I hope someday to see her give it a shot with a human or humans.

For now, though, MD is here. And it's a nice mix of memories and current experiences.

All of the at home DNA testing has amplified that we may not know who our fathers are, but we all know who our mothers are. And this is their day.