Mother’s Day came and went yesterday. It’s an occasion that has given me some trouble in previous years. There’s really no excuse, well no good one anyway. I’ve always had a mother and I’m no spring chicken anymore. I’ve seen forty something of these “Mother” of all days. One would think that understanding the concept of showing your mother that you love her would be quite simple. I’ll try to explain why it has taken me so long to get with the program.
As a younger and more self centered chap, it was easy to rationalize my lack of enthusiasm for Mother’s Day. Really, if it was that important, then wouldn’t they have made it a holiday? Isn’t that what really makes a day special? Being set free from obligations of work automatically makes everyone sit up, take notice, and celebrate the holiday. Getting an actual holiday is so spectacular that for a number of those days society has felt inclined to add a parade. Christmas, Thanksgiving and St. Patrick’s Day are just such special days and all of these come with statutory holidays. Until there is a Mother’s Day parade, then is that day really that important?
Mother’s Day is celebrated on Sunday, which in the Christian world is the day of rest. I was raised by mom to be a good Catholic boy. If I were to go the extra mile on Mother’s Day to celebrate, then wouldn’t I have been going against the teachings of the Church? See mom, I really was listening to Father Walsh, even as I was trying to turn the Sunday bulletin into a paper airplane that would take flight and hit one of my brothers in the back of the head. I dared not ever do that to my sister. Margaret Ann, although deaf, perfected the piercing scream at a very young age. That scream always brought the shame of blame, whether warranted or not, to me or my brothers. Mother’s Day or not, at Sunday service or elsewhere, mom’s university ring on my noggin still hurt like heck.
Sunday is a strange choice for Mother’s Day anyway. My mom is busy on Sunday mornings preparing the big scoff we have at lunch time. Her afternoons are just as busy as she cleans up the mess, while being sure not to make too much noise as to disturb my brothers and me as we nap on her couches. We wouldn’t dare deprive mom of such a wonderful family tradition, be it Mother’s Day or not. I think she appreciates that.
My birthday falls in the second week of May. Every few years, I have had to share “my day” with Mother’s Day. Before I matured, I was resentful of that. The overlap caused people to forget my birthday because they were so focused on pampering my mom or their own mothers. Birthdays only come around once a year and there are a limited number of them in a person’s life. What 44 year old man wouldn’t be upset by that? As I said, that was the old me. I’ve matured now. I’ve developed a very thoughtful routine with my mom whenever our special days coincide. On those Sundays, my wife Lynda relieves mom of her cleanup duty after the family feed. It’s only fair to include Lynda, as she is a mother too.
On the topic of wives, there is an important lesson I must share with my fellow husbands. When you have children, your partner is now a mother. You must recognize that fact or you will surely feel the wrath of your women. Any explanation you have for not picking up flowers, making supper, cleaning the house, or, at the very minimum, buying her a gift certificate for groceries, will never be good enough. Do not make the situation even worse by citing what, on the surface, seems like a very legitimate reason – “But honey, you are not my mother.” Take it from the voice of experience, it is not pretty!
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