The Price of Feeling Special

Look. I'm no different than every other mother out there who likes to be recognized for the contribution they make to their families or humanity even, but not at the cost of feeling guilty and so I have decided things will be different next year. What are you going on about Mysti, you ask?

Restaurant's gouging prices for a darn made up government holiday. That's what!

Yesterday was gorgeous. The weather sunny and mild and I enjoyed a short trip to the local nursery to walk among the green and find a new plant for my mother. Lovely.

Bear had to work and so we planned on dinner afterwards. My favorite fare is Indian and we wanted to try a place that we have passed many times, but never been too. They normally close at 3pm on Sunday but generously (tongue in cheek) stayed open for.. yes.. the glorious day of recognition other wise known as Mother's Day. I felt like it was my lucky day. Meant to be even... because, you see.. by the time Bear arrived home and we headed out it was well after 4pm, but they were staying open for ME!

(cheers and applause heard faintly in the background)

The smells, the taste, the utter lack of resistance. It was divine! I made sure I didn't eat all day so I could eat until I knew I exceeded my intake limit.

But then...

The check.

Oh yes folks. The blasted check.

Bear leans in, grabs the little cushioned black check holder, opens it up and out of my mouth was a raised "What the Hell?"

Their price for the buffet is usually $11.99 (dinner) per person. Apparently though, they thought Mother's everywhere would rejoice in paying them an added amount for their generosity of feeding us on our special day of recognition. All this at the rate of $17 per person including an 11 year old boy. Total that up for 5 people. Livid doesn't begin to describe my feeling at that moment. No warning. So sign. Nada. They, in no uncertain terms, asked us to grab our ankles. The table next to us with 12 people were in for a nasty surprise.

But I woke up feeling the need to thank them instead of being pissed. They stayed open a few extra hours for women on the one day of the year when people show that they possibly give a shit for what it is we do..... all the while, having to ask what the HELL it is that we actually do. But I digress.

(Bear - you are excluded from that last statement)

*clearing throat*

Dear Yak and Yeti (I'm not making that up...),

Thank you for opening up your doors for the women in the community who bring life into this world after many months of swollen feet, the incredible ability to pee our pants when we laugh or sneeze, who are poked and prodded by every Johnny who crouches between our legs to see "how things are going", and hours upon hours of tireless labor pains only to squeeze a bowling ball out of our tiny whoo has!

Your generosity in our hour of needed recognition cannot be conveyed in words alone. So I thank you for accepting my husband's hard earned money for more than your advertised price because I wasn't sure I could openly thank you for your caring hospitality.

So I give to you, dear folks at the Yak and Yeti, the one fingered salute. I want you to know just how damn special you are. After all - women from all over the metro area are feeling the same way.. Damn special.


What will be done different next year? I will ask Bear to put his cute butt in the kitchen and cook a wonderful meal for the family and i'll pitch in and make the bread. Yesterday was a not-so-gentle reminder of why I don't take stock in idiotic made up government holidays.

rant over.