For Mother’s Day

For Mother’s Day

To my wife and the mother of three remarkable daughters,

I don’t usually do this. Truthfully, I gag a little at all the sweet posts that are shared between husbands and wives ON PUBLIC MEDIA. Denise and I have agreed to keep our expressions of love private. We tell each other but not my 5000 Facebook friends or her 3000 or my fan page or Twitter buddies or LinkedIn pals. Do they really need to know how much I love my wife or that she looked really hot in that outfit today?

But it’s Mother’s Day. Again, I’m in hot water. I bristle at the growing number of holidays for which we are supposed to buy a card, a gift, and go out to eat. I suspect Hallmark and Applebee’s are behind the conspiracy. And why should the husband be expected to do something to recognize his wife on Mother’s Day? Isn’t this the kids’ responsibility? She’s their mother, not mine. I can feel the heat rising out there in cyber-land even as I type. For those of you who hate what I just said, sometimes I use ghost writers.

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