When I was young, I would rack my brain for something to get my mother on Mother’s Day to show that I appreciated her. Being that I had no money, I knew I couldn’t buy her anything. So I would write her a story every year, usually making fun of us rotten kids and her tortured life as an overworked mom, and then having someone like Mel Gibson come and whisk her away to some deserted island. And along with it I would serve her breakfast in bed. I always felt like a failure that I couldn’t get her jewelry or flowers or something fabulous that she could show all her friends. I felt like a written story and breakfast in bed was the easy way out, an obvious gift from someone who was too poor to buy a storebought gift.
This year will be my 12th Mother’s Day. On the couch is a wrapped present from my daughter, something she made at school. My son has hidden a homemade card somewhere in the house. And tomorrow morning my daughter will make me breakfast with the eggs I bought at the Farmer’s Market today, and she’ll even make me coffee. Then she will bring it upstairs for me to eat in bed, complete with the newspaper. And I couldn’t be more excited to be so pampered by my kids! It makes me realize that my mom probably felt the same way, so excited to be taken care of to thank her for taking care of us the rest of the year. The rest of our Mother’s Day tomorrow will be spent with the kids’ grandparents and great-grandma in San Francisco, taking advantage of the free admissions to the SF Zoo, and maybe even a museum or two, thanks to the Koret Museum Days. The sun is shining, the kids are ecstatic, our family will all be together….it should be a lovely day.
Happy Mother’s Day to the all the new mommies, the seasoned mommies, the married mommies, the single mommies, the dads and grandmas and aunts who are filling in as mommies, the future mommies, the step-mommies, the foster mommies, and every mommy in between! Hope your day is as wonderful as you!
Side note: Sometimes Mother’s Day doesn’t fit into the neat little box you hoped it would. The day you planned and anticipated is crumbling as kids fight with each other, grandparents cancel plans to the zoo last minute, and you are sitting hungry in your bed waiting for a breakfast after you’ve ashamedly unleashed your wrath on bickering children. And suddenly all the excitement over the day blows up in a black cloud that rains down desire to stay holed up in bed all alone on a beautiful sunny day. But then the kids come upstairs and give you presents they’ve worked painstakingly hard at, and include a card of apology: "All booboos fixed, all fights are done, happiness is almost back if you forgive us." And you realize that you are the luckiest mom in the world to have such great kids who bit back their pride first, and that the day is still young. The sun is still shining. And the zoo is still calling our names.
That’s really cute that you wrote stories for your mom. I’m so boring with my flowers. And before I had money for flowers … I think … I probably gave her a hug. Woo hoo!