Hallmark Holiday?

I’ve been thinking a lot about mothers this week. I know that not everyone likes the idea of special days for different categories of people.  Some people think our annual recognition of mothers is nothing but an overly-commercial “Hallmark Holiday.” Even Anna Jarvis, the daughter of Anna Reeves Jarvis, the founder of the original Mother’s Day in the United States, became disillusioned at the commercialism she saw taking away from the thoughtful, sentimental holiday her mother had first imagined. She even tried, unsuccessfully, to abolish the holiday completely.  I knew a man once who agreed with Anna Jarvis, and in all the years I knew him he never gave his mother or his wife flowers or a card, never took them breakfast in bed.

Saved by Pasta Bracelets

When we were first married my husband leaned in that direction too, but fortunately preschool and kindergarten teachers provided our two young children with art supplies and motivation. Year after year they brought home original cards and pasta bracelets and wonderful poems that I put between the pages of my cookbooks. Even today my kids always remember me on Mother’s Day.  They know they don’t need to buy a store-bought card to make me happy.  A telephone call, a visit, flowers, a meal, a picnic in a state park — over the years they’ve come up with all kinds of wonderful ways to let me know they appreciate me as a mother and to put a smile on my face.  And now I watch my seven-year old granddaughter stockpiling hand-made card, gift, and poem in preparation for Sunday when she can burst in on her own mother with early morning snuggles to thank her for being the wonderful mother she is.

No, you don’t need a greeting card to honor your mother, or your daughter, or your best friend who is an absolutely amazing mother. I appreciate this holiday not because it sells cards, but because it prompts us to think about mothers and mothering.  It has certainly caused me to do so, and this week I’ve been thinking especially about the three generations of mothers in our family.

My Moms

Mom and Me and the car that took us to California

Early memories of my own mother smell like starch. She took in ironing to make up the deficits in her housekeeping budget that came from having a husband in the construction industry in the 1950s. Friday often brought a pink slip in his pay packet. She sang while she ironed, songs from World War II and movies contemporary to her growing up in post depression England. My iTunes shuffle played Til We Meet Again yesterday, and I was moved to tears realizing how much I miss her.

I wasn’t particularly appreciative of my mother-in-law when I married her son at nineteen, but the older I get, the wiser she seems to be. Her wedding gift to me, in addition to making my lovely silk gown, was a seasoned frying pan, seasoned rolling pin, and two seasoned wooden spoons. She taught me to soak the silverware in soapy water after a meal, even if I left the dishes til later, and to put partially eaten bananas inside a plastic bag to keep away fruit flies. She wrote a poem about me once, describing me as I sat sewing and watching my toddler learning to walk. I think about her far more than she would ever imagine.

My Daughters

Counting my wonderful step daughter and daughter-in-law, I have four. Each of them has taught me new things about mothering and they are all wonderful mothers.

One daughter enjoys taking her daughter with her to peaceful marches: the Women’s March, the Gay Pride Festival, and tomorrow, the Human Race. By doing this she is teaching her child how democracy works, and that it is important to stand up for what she believes. They paint together, too, and read wonderful stories, and go for bike rides. Thanks to this creative mother, that grandchild is learning how to craft a rich, intentional life.

My physician daughter takes her dog, a very active Vizsla, for walks in the park after long stressful days at the hospital. Her toddler slows down these outings considerably and turns them into adventures. They throw balls for Tobias, but also examine tiny stones, and grass and other important things. That child, not yet two, is learning about loyalty and love and responsibility. Tobias, who has watched over her protectively all her life, has become her very best friend.

My exceptionally fun-loving daughter dons gag sunglasses along with her two year old, and mugs for the camera. She once took her daughter along when she distributed informational brochures about her therapy practice.  Sometimes they just hang out in her office. She is showing her daughter where she goes and what she does on the days she is away from home.  She is also teaching her to live in the world of grownups with good grace and manners. And how to enjoy just about everything she does, even sitting on the potty.

And then there is my lawyer daughter. Spending all week in an office after commuting to work, she and her husband love to be out of doors on weekends. I’ve seen pictures of their two-year old by rivers, in the mountains, under a waterfall, picnicking in the park. She piles up rocks and explores the outdoor world with laughter, walking ahead of her parents, forging her own path. That daughter is enjoying motherhood with a gusto I admire and appreciate. I feel the same way, even though my children are now all grown.

Mothers Around the World

Motherhood

As I began to think about the mothers in our own family, I also thought about my friends who are mothers, or who care for their mothers, or who wish they were mothers.  Mothering comes in all forms, and the experiences of mothers are as diverse as the world’s people.  This year I’ve been thinking a lot about my friend who who carried her daughter’s ashes home on a plane last Mother’s Day, and the one whose mother died in a New Mexico snowstorm, her body sheltering her granddaughter in the disabled car.  Mother’s Day will be bittersweet for these mothers, as well as for the women who have lost their own mothers or their own child.

I think about all the many mothers who have birthed children or who can’t, whose angels were born too soon, and those who struggle every day with the challenges of money, disability, family violence, illness. I think of the daily challenges of mothers who shlep their children to dancing, or gymnastics, to soccer or taikwando, and those who take the time to teach their children to cook, or garden, or assemble an Ikea bookcase.

I encourage you also to think about mothers this Mother’s Day. Think about your friends and relatives who mother their own children and those of others.  What can you say to them that shows you have noticed?

I invite you to pick up the phone and call a mother — not necessarily your own, although that might be good too. Send a note to a mother and tell her how great you think she is and why. Think about your own mother, your grandmother, your great grandmother. What would your life have been like without them?  What made them different from mothers today? What about them was the same? Do you have a story about a mother you’d like to share?  I hope so.  Please use the comment form for that.

And if you are a mother — Happy Mother’s Day!