When my son Jack was three-years old he asked me if God had feet. Seeing how thrown I was by that question (does God have feet?) he softballed me with this follow-up: how do we know God is a father and not a mother?
Instinctively, I answered, “Because no mother would ever create order out of chaos and then go and undo it by creating man."
“Also," I continued, "Two days tops to create a universe because no mother has the luxury of seven days to get anything done."
His question did force me to think what the world might be like if God was a mother. And so I wrote:
If God Was a Mother, her Commandments would read:
Do not waste thine time carving what I say onto stone tablets for no one will read them and, undoubtedly, someone will break them and I will have to sweep the mess. If thou wishes to be helpful, do a load of laundry instead.
Thou shalt not enter my temple without first wiping thine shoes on the oversized Walmart mat put forth before your feet inside the door of my temple. Said mat is not a moat over which you feel compelled to jump, nor a pit of burning lava that your sister has convinced you will melt your legs up to your kneecaps.
Thou shalt not worship any false gods such as Nintendo, xbox, or Wii unless thou hast been banished from my sight so that I may kneel at the altar of Motrin.
As we break the bread I have spent all day making, thou shalt not moan about the unfairness of having to eat thine bread without electronic sustenance. Nor shalt thou ask for different bread, for the Lord your Mother is not a short order cook.
Thou shall eat all food placed before you. Broccoli stalks are not trees to be planted into your mashed potatoes; peas are not lilliputian cannonballs to be flung across the table at your sister for reasons that I will thus make clear: BECAUSE I SAID STOP IT. THREE TIMES ALREADY!
Thou shalt not drink any fluids outside of the kitchen area without sacrificing freedoms should said fluids spill onto living room carpet or sofa.
Thou shalt not antagonize, brutalize, or irritate any household beast (including thine father) at anytime or in any way. Should thou disobey and beast bites you, you can drive thineself to the emergency room and explain it to DYFUS.
Thou shalt not touch, poke, annoy, or upset any of thine siblings while being transported, or change thine Mother’s radio station, or thou shalt face the full wrath of Mother God who, in her divine mercy, shall show no mercy.
Thou shalt not covet any toy that does not belong to you. If thine brother screams because you have pilfered his Star Wars sword, thine mother shall execute exacting punishment for having been unduly disturbed.
Thou shalt bathe every night by using soap and water together while standing unclothed inside the tub.
Thou shalt not use hand-held shower to create a bathroom tsunami for thine brother or thou shalt face mine full wrath.
Upon finishing said shower, thou shalt use the towel the Lord your Mother hast provided to dry thineself off with. It is not to be used to blindfold the dog, or your brother, as you drip thineself all over the hallway and thine father slips and throws his back out, leaving the Lord your Mother to deal with all said messes, the biggest one being thine wailing, immobile father.
Thou shalt not raise thine voice in my presence for it seems that you do not know how to control the volume of your speech, especially when thine mother has forgotten to scrape from your chicken the parsley which thou finds so offensive.
Thou shalt place soiled clothes not in a pile in the bathroom, or at the foot of thine bed, but in the wooden receptacle that is clearly used to contain soiled clothes, and is not a jail cell for thine sister.
Thou shalt not repeat to Grandma, Grandpa, your teachers, or neighbors, the details of any heated discourse between thine mother and father. This includes all recording devices as well. For if thine mother and father appear on youtube thou shalt be banished to sleep away camp where they keep locks on the refrigerators.
Thou shalt not dispute, argue, or blaspheme the divine ways of thine Mother in public places where thine lamentations can be overheard and dissected over coffee by the local Vestal Virgins.
Thou shalt not judge the ways of thy father when on the thirtieth of every month, and the first of every quarter, he bemoans the paying of bills. Listen not as he proclaims that thine divine mother must use more coupons. Fear not as thine divine mother replies that he can kiss a sacred part of her anatomical structure in the window of a major New York City department store on 6th Avenue known for its (everyday) one day sale.
Lastly, thou shalt not volunteer thine divine mother to host playdates or provide transportation (both to and from said destination) for you and your ten friends without first seeking approval. If thou should throw a tantrum, or cop an attitude when refused, thou shalt be grounded for life, or worse, sent to live in exile with Grandma whose television is so old that it lacks the connections that your xbox, Wii and Nintendo Gaming Systems require.”
Wishing all Patch readers the happiest of Mother’s Days.