The Art of Mother's Day

Mother's Day has become such an ordeal.  I remember giving my mom a construction paper card every year.  She read the card, said she liked it - then we moved on with our day.  (I really wanted to make her breakfast in bed, but for some unknown reason she was vehemently opposed to that idea.)  Now Mother's Day seems to have become the ordeal that Valentine's Day has become. 

The Holy Grail of Motherhood.  

Gus made me this awesome necklace in Clay Camp one summer.  It is casual, yet classy, enough to go with almost anything.    

 
The day after Mother's Day other moms were asking me how my Mother's Day was.  I told them I worked on planting my veggie gardens with trays of delicate plants that had been blasted with patchy frost.  (My basil is still trying to recover.)  Of course, I then asked about their Mother's Day.  I heard about insanely delicious brunches, meaningful photo books, and hikes to stands of heirloom lilacs.  I admired lovely necklaces and was wide eyed with desire when afternoon naps were described to me - quiet moment by quiet moment.  Was I jealous?  Of course.  Was I happy that they were recognized as the fabulous mothers they are? Of course.        

What some people don't understand is that when you're a single mom, there is no one to orchestrate Mother's Day.  Someone with an actual checking account needs to buy the birthstone necklace from Etsy.  An active cell phone is needed to make brunch reservations.  (I am pretty sure my kids don't even know what brunch is.)  Someone older than 12 needs to lead the battle cry of emptying out the house for an hour or more.  

Bless all the teachers who put the energy into Mother's Day presents.  I LOVE these forever blooming coffee filter flowers.  

My daughter, Lulu, gave me all my Mother's Day presents early because she was so excited.  Her saint of a teacher coordinated all the projects.  Middle child, Gus, gave me my card 3 weeks early. He did this because I had a screaming meltdown while kicking the vacuum cleaner down the hall.  In my defense, the meltdown was precipitated by my sloth children sitting on the couch, plugged in, oblivious to the fact that I was doing all of the work.  My oldest child had no clue it was Mother's Day, because Middle School teachers are too busy teaching curriculum to mess around with "holidays."

Hall and Oates - making your dreams come true for years and years . . . and years.

Final thoughts.  Mothers deserve more than one day a year to be celebrated.  Moms need to look for the sweet things that happen all year long.  Like when your "tween" hugs you for making a ham dinner when it isn't even Christmas.  Or when your 90 pound ten year old curls up in your lap and asks, "What was your favorite band from the eighties?"  (He did not like my answer - since technically "Hall & Oates" is a duo and not a band.)  Or when your daughter invites you to a dance party in her room.  Maybe when my kids get older I will be taken out to brunch and given a birthstone necklace.  Until then I am going to just smell the coffee filter flowers.

Prairie Eydie