Mothers

At first, I thought Mothers’ Day was kinda dumb, a Hallmark holiday, an invention of the Flowers’n’cards lobby, a reason to feel guilty, a reason to feel obligated, a day upon which millions of women feel like somebody else is being treated to “Queen For a Day” and they have to pretend not to resent doing the dishes. Or laundry.

Then, I thought Mothers Day was kind of a set-up… a day on which one picture of motherhood was held up for applause, a day upon which millions of women feel cheated or slighted or depressed or stressed because they don’t have kids, or don’t want kids, or can’t conceive kids, or because their marriages didn’t last and they’re now raising kids alone, or because their mothers died, or because they didn’t have mothers, or partners…

The siren song of comparison….

Today… My facebook feed filled up with pictures of my friends’ mothers in black and white from the 50’s, and 60’s, and garish hippie color from the seventies. I saw pictures of my mom friends running races with their kids yesterday, as babies in their mothers’ arms thirty-five years ago, and holding their elderly mothers tenderly five years ago, a year before she passed away. Women’s faces, smiling, stern, surprised, sly. Children, babies, toddlers, teens…

And today, my world was full of the wonderfulness of just being in life….six-year-old Alden bursting with energy, ideas, enthusiasm, and go. Walking by the river, snuggling on the couch watching a movie, sneaking downstairs for a shower and a snuggle while Alden reads “Runaway Ralph”, grilled chicken and asparagus over homemade alfredo pasta, dreaming big dreams for our neighborhood and our town.

And my husband and son each in their own way brought me to tears with their sweet notes in cards slipped my way. A special day, for sure.

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One thought on “Mothers

  1. I remember feeling this way immediately after having Munchkin, and then… the hubby and I didn’t celebrate Mother’s Day that first year. And Munchkin and I took a trip together that year… so we didn’t celebrate Father’s Day either. And we realized somehow it *does* matter… somehow that one day of recognition helps. It’s not about the flowers (although I admit yes, I want my handmade card from my kids darnit!) or the brunches, it’s about being in the moment of that day and really being aware of the relationships and what that person does.

    I love this post. 🙂 (I also really loved your FB joke.)

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