SOUTHERN EXPOSURE: DON'T FORGET TO REMEMBER MAMA ON MOTHER'S DAY

Mother's Day Alert! Four days to Mother's Day!

In my family you don't forget Mother's Day. My mom is the world's greatest pouter. You forget her birthday and suffer the consequences: two months of innuendoes and sad-eyed pouting.

You forget Mother's Day and it is six months of early-morning phone calls that ultimately lead to exhaustive descriptions of 36-, 48 or 72-hour labors. It grows longer depending on her mood.

But it doesn't end there. Back when I was born, and in the town that I was born in, doctors didn't believe in sedating mothers during childbirth -- or so my mother says. So there are teary-eyed retellings of the pain... no, agony... no, torture she endured to bring me into the world.

Personally, I think the whole childbirth thing is exaggerated. I've heard stories of Russian and Polish women working in the fields picking potatoes until the moment of childbirth. Then, on their lunch breaks, they'd find a nice quiet place -- preferably near where all the other girls were giving birth -- have the child, hand it to a matron who was too old to pick potatoes and go back to work.

No crying, no screaming, no death threats against their husbands. A work(person)-like attitude to bringing a child into the world.

Now I believe these stories without question.

And don't try to frighten me with these examples of the pain of childbirth -- pull your lower lip, or upper lip I can't remember which, over your head and see how that feels. It's like trying to pass a bowling ball -- yada, yada, yada.

My mother, she doesn't end the guilt trip simply with childbirth.

My mother raised me, my two brothers and two sisters on her own. My parents got a divorce when I was 5 years old and my mom had to work 60-hour weeks to make enough money to feed and clothe us.

All kidding aside, I think my mother is a valiant woman who sacrificed more than I can imagine for her children. She has more courage and strength that I'll ever poses. She deserves the simple pleasure of a card on Mother's Day.

No doubt about that.

But my mother also knows the value of guilt and she has the memory of an elephant. You forget Mother's Day and you're in for extended tales of dinners made with a bag of flour, a cup of water, bacon grease saved from breakfast and creamed corn.

She claims she could make something resembling meatloaf from that concoction that would feed all six of us and leave some left over for bag lunches the next day.

My mother is also prone to exaggeration.

As the years drag on the ingredients become less and less, and cheaper and cheaper. She now claims she could feed all six of us on 75 cents a week.

I have a lot to thank my mother for and I might mention one or two of those things when I send a card to her Sunday. Despite how it sounds I'm not opposed to Mother's Day. It's just that it's a holiday where I'm not going to receive a present, therefore, as a man, I'm well within my rights to forget it completely and deal with the consequences later.

David Angier is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.