Musings on Mother's Day

My mother doesn't like mother's day. She never has. She calls it "one of those manufactured Hallmark holidays," in which people are goaded into buying cards, flowers, and other sappy sentiments out of some misguided sense of obligation. Misguided, my mom would say, because a mother is always a mother. There is a never a day in which a mother is not a mother. And a mother, therefore, should be shown respect for her role every day.

People have been asking me all week what my family is doing for mother's day. I'm 41 years old and I've never done anything for mother's day besides call my mom, or send a note. This year, I went all out, actually, and sent a card that my 13-year-old made as part of a fledgling business. It said, "I like meatballs." But I can't tell people that I'm sending my mom a meatball card for mother's day. They'd think I was disrespectful. Or mean. Or worse. What they will never know is that by not making a big deal of the day, I am giving my mother exactly what she wants most.

As for plans in my own family? The 13-year-old and her 10-year-old sister got on the mother's day bandwagon when they were smaller, egged on by well-meaning teachers and their well-meaning dad. They made me cards with handprints. They made me toast for breakfast. They always make me tea because they know that I think tea is one of the best ways to celebrate a good moment or to soothe a bad one. They present the tea to me with an incredible sense of accomplishment and feeling. It is a real offering -- of joy, of connection, of love.

So this year, for mother's day, I hope to be having a cup of tea. It is exactly what I want most.