mother's day

Ever get the feeling that Mother’s Day is over-rated and wish it would just go away? Today I talk about the ups and downs of Mother’s Day and whether this special day is necessary.

When the desert seems dry between you and your family, what gives you nourishment?

I’ve had 31 official “I’m a Mother” Mother’s Days over my lifetime. Thankfully, I was also able to enjoy this day with my own mom 42 times. What has all that taught me about this day, and the days before and afterwards?

When my daughters were old enough, they would make and bring me breakfast in bed. Cereal and milk, toast, and when they were a little older, pancakes. I loved having them cherish me that way. I loved how committed they were to giving me a lovely day to remember. They in their little nighties, sitting on high stools in front of the griddle, anxiously waiting for the pancake bubbles to pop so they could flip or remove them from the heat.

One of my most cherished posters, that still hangs in my living room, is the one my older daughter made when she was only 7. It shows herself, her sister, and me together with our dogs, and a huge banner that says “Mother’s Day” above the skyscrapers.

So, why the dread of Mother’s Day Fran?

Mother’s Day as an event may have started out promising, a way to honour our moms for the hard work they do daily, and give one day back to pamper and indulge her. As a child, we made and gave homemade school-crafted cards and gifts to our moms, and I loved receiving these from my own daughters. (I still have them tucked away and love to reminisce about how small they were, and their cute printing and words). Thank you teachers!

Later, when they grew up and moved on, they would make gifts together to give me. One year they went to a pottery class and made me separate gifts. Love those too!

When they became more involved with their own lives, the visits home became fewer and the homemade gifts intermittent. If I suggested a Mother’s Day weekend visit with them in their home-cities, most often they were able to accommodate an evening overnight or at a restaurant.

What happened? The thoughts that roll through my head are several:

1. Martyrdom: A mom will always love her children more than they love her.
2. Denial: They are busy and have their own lives. Work and commitments don’t stop just because of a date on the calendar.
3. Guilt: If I’d been a better mom when they were growing up, they would be closer to me now.
4. Grief: I miss them so much my heart is breaking.
5. Bargaining: One supper together is great. I’ll travel to you so you both don’t need to take the time to travel.
6. Blaming: It’s the fault of capitalism, marketing, and advertising. The more Mother’s Day is promoted, the more sales there are in flower shops, restaurants, cards, and of course, gifts. The more hype there is around having the best day of the year, more often than not, it doesn’t seem that way at all. Not if I’m without my daughters.
7. Anger: I hate Mother’s Day, please don’t mention it.
8. Acceptance: (Not there yet).

What is all going on here?

Firstly, I know my own narrative overlays my original thoughts. Feelings of unworthiness, not good-enough, and rejection slams a door in my face. This of course was born in my childhood, and being the 10th of 12 children, neither of my parents seemed to realize that I was being lost in the crowd. And unless you were a rebel child, superstar, or a sick child, you fell by the wayside in favour of the others. For those of us who were born into distraction, abuse, or neglect, we try even harder to be loved.

Secondly, I know I could’ve/should’ve/would’ve been a better and more attentive mother if I’d known then what I know now. That kind voice inside my head tells me I tried my best, and then the other, nagging voice says, “Did you really try your best, or did school take the best of you, and you left the rest for when you got home after work?”

Thirdly, yes, yes, yes, the marketing of Mother’s Day now rivals that of Christmas and Black Friday. If merchants can promote Mother’s Day for a whole month, all the better for their quarterly reports to the shareholders. Credit card companies are more than happy to provide credit for last-minute gifts.

Lastly, perhaps it’s all true.

All the guilt, and loneliness, the marketing madness, and the distorted image of Mother’s Day needs to be viewed realistically. In this way, we can all grow in our own humanity and culture. Those handmade cards and the beautiful Mother’s Day poster, are still the most perfect, most loving and kind gifts I’ve ever received. They are worthy, and when I’m feeling down and lonely, I’ll put those cards back up on the fridge, phone my kids and tell them I miss them, and hope to see them for Mother’s Day weekend.

It’s up to me to continue working on my own inner healing and self-forgiveness, to remember the close times, and to say a prayer and have faith that all things work out for good for those (like me) who love the Lord.

If you can, hug your mom for me, and tell her that I appreciate her for birthing you, a miracle. If you can’t, say a prayer for all of us who wish we could hug our moms, one last time, and hug our children many, many more times.

Lovingly, in light and gratitude,
Fran
PS. Acceptance will come.