A Mother of a Day
Here’s a heads up to all fathers and sons reading this newspaper: I have some news that could very well save your lives (or at least your marriages and/or otherwise important relationships with close relatives).
Ready? This Sunday is Mother’s Day. As in, a special day set aside each year by the powers that be (Hallmark and ProFlowers) to honor, acknowledge and otherwise heap thanks and praise upon the mothers in our lives.
In my family we are blessed to have grandmas, step-grandmas, moms, step-moms, daughter-moms, daughter-in-law-moms and, well … I think that’s everybody. It’s going to be a busy Saturday at the card shop.
Over the years, my kids and I have tried to plan each Mother’s Day with its own unique and lasting memories. At least, I thought we had. A few minutes ago I asked my youngest son – just home from college for the summer – what some of his fondest memories of past Mother’s Days might be. He put on his most studious, thoughtful and collegiate face and after a painfully quiet few moments said, “Uh, none really.”
So anyway, in years past our family has gone out to dinner, made dinner at home, made brunch, had picnics at the beach, had picnics in the mountains and had picnics on the way to the beach or the mountains wherever the car happened to break down. We’ve gone hiking, gone biking, gone crazy – no wait, scratch that. We’ve gone to see a movie, taken long drives, stayed home and relaxed and enjoyed any number of other combinations of food, family and activities or non-activities, depending on Mom’s wishes for her special day.
When our kids were young, each occasion was more often than not accessorized in different ways with heartfelt, handwritten (and sometimes even readable!) notes from our loving progeny. Sometimes Mother’s Day even included gifts of handmade crafts including handprints in clay, grossly misshapen pencil holders and various and sundry useless (but priceless) gewgaws, doodads and dust catchers of every kind you’ll never find on Amazon.
And then, there was last year’s Mother’s Day. Readers may remember that last year at my house, our elegantly formal dinner in honor of Mom was interrupted quite dramatically by an uninvited guest of the rodent persuasion.
Upon seeing the critter skitter along the floorboards in the room next to our dining room, quick-thinking Protector of Home and Hearth that I am, I calmly got up from the dining table, folded my cloth napkin (I told you this was an elegant spread) and placed it on my now empty chair, grabbed the nearest wooden-handled broom – and summarily dispatched our mousy intruder to his untimely demise by swinging at the doomed thing repeatedly with all the focus and fury of Hank Aaron homer. Happy #%$*#@# Mother’s Day, Mickey!!
So alright, maybe it wasn’t exactly a sentimental memory for the mothers present at our table. But hey, it’s a memory. Hopefully this Sunday will be much less lethal and more serene for us all.
Okay, guys. You’ve been warned. No excuses. Make me proud this Sunday. Go forth and honor that special lady – the mother of your children and/or your own mommy dearest. And while you’re at it – give thanks for moms everywhere. In addition to bringing you (and all of humanity, for that matter) into the world, the mere fact that they put up with messy rooms, missed curfews, stray puppies rescued and brought home, stray boyfriends/girlfriends rescued and brought home, tantrums (at all ages), mountains of dirty laundry and so much more that makes them worthy of a special day of what I like to call the 3Rs: rest, recognition and reservations at the restaurant of their choosing.
Just make sure at the end of the day that you’ve left them grateful, highly impressed and if possible, even close to tears at your all-out effort on their behalf. After all, Father’s Day will be here in only a month.
I’ll see you ’round town.