Lately we’ve been up to our collective armpits (darned commie armpits, anyway) with a plethora of Mother’s Day marketing. “Show Mom how much you love her on Mother’s Day with a new ironing board!” There’s so many of those plethoras, I’ve been forced to think a lot about the role of mothers in our society. Of course, being male, all my thinking is forced and not a natural activity. Still, I've come to the conclusion that the title of “Mommy” must be a pretty neat experience. Indeed, when anyone wants to describe all that is good and wholesome in the world, motherhood and apple pie rank one and two respectively. I suspect beer is a close third.

In fact, motherhood as an institution is held so sacred, the worst insults men hurl at one another (during heated hockey games, for example) aren't so much directed at the insultee himself, but at his mother. The old standby”Son of a B___” is a fine example of this, but there are many others. Good taste and restraint, things I’m not particularly good at, prevent me from listing them all but trust me, they are plentiful. Anyone who has missed a two inch putt probably knows them all. Apparently, you can trash with relative impunity a person who has displeased you, even his wife, kids, vehicle, anything, but don't make fun of his mother. Them's fightin' words, doncha know, and only serve to demonstrate the high regard mothers are held.

At risk of displeasing a large swath of the population, I have to admit I'm not so sure this motherhood thing should be as highly vaunted as it is, with the exception, of course, my own mother who is a saint. (She made me say that or she threatened to break my arm.) After all, the only prerequisite to motherhood is to plunk down in some stirrups and push out a kid. I mean, how hard can that be, really? Oh I know most women go on and on about the pain of childbirth and how they spent 78 hours in labour (the number of hours increases with each telling -  something like the distance walked to school by grandparents), but really, the only source of information on the amount of pain experienced always comes from women. Now, obviously they aren't going to minimize the description of the discomfort, otherwise they will have nothing to hold over their kids to make them feel guilty.

Actually this whole childbirth pain thing has bothered me for some time. Thankfully, my own mother (Did I mention she's a saint?) never brought up the subject of the discomfort and stress I caused her when she brought me into this world. Mind you, being the last of eight children, there's a good chance she may not have noticed the event. It’s even possible she just phoned it in and went back to tidying the house.

The mother of my children, however, is a whole different story. It is impossible for me to bemoan any pain whatsoever (bashing my thumb with a hammer, breaking my leg skiing, the big snip etc, etc,) without her bringing up the fact that it could not have possibly hurt as much as producing our two wonderful children. Frankly, I didn't know it was a contest. I can’t imagine what the trophy for it might look like. I do maintain, however, if she got the same mileage out of her Kia as Cupcake gets out of that whole “pain of childbirth” thing, she wouldn’t have to fill up with gas until well into the next decade.

Okay, perhaps I overstate my case somewhat. Besides providing a huge selection of terrific guilt-inducing birthing stories, (you had a hold of my large intestine and wouldn’t let go!), motherhood has some pretty terrific things going for it. Take for example the "magic lips" that come with the title of "Mother".

A Mother’s magic lips can kiss "boo-boos" all better, purse in such a way that every kid within fifty yards knows they've been caught doing something sneaky, or smile with such radiance over every single gift from the heart that mothers receive from their adoring offspring. From freshly picked dandelion bouquets to the clay handprints being churned out in kindergartens everywhere these treasures are squirreled away to be kept into perpetuity for some unknown reason. My best guess is that these trinkets are what power the magic lips.

These same magic lips have many other uses, too. They can diagnose a fever from the forehead of a sick child, comfort a broken heart or simply provide a decoy. This is where a mom goes in for that patented quick cheek peck, followed by a surreptitious sniff for signs of beer or cigarette smoke.

Besides their lips and their amazing baby-holding hips, mothers also have other magic features that hold them in good stead. They are endowed with broad, soft shoulders to cry on, hands that can just as easily make supper as make emergency repairs to clothing, and spit that can clean even the toughest stains on any small face.

As I said at the start, motherhood would be a pretty cool gig. Now if we could just dispense with that entire excruciatingly painful child birth thing, men might actually be interested in it.