Mother's Day Madness
When I was in elementary school, we used to make "presents" for our mothers for Mother's Day: fingerprint paintings, hand outlined flowers (the same as hand turkeys!), glitter styrofoam and pipe cleaner "things", or something with googly eyes. I never thought these were "good" presents, and always worked hard to create something my mom would treasure forever.
Usually a poem.
I've been a writer forever, but I assure you the poems I wrote as a child we anything but stellar.
But my mother seemed to appreciate them, and so I found myself making her poem "booklets" tied together with yarn or something like that.
But one year I decided my mom deserved something more, and I picked some flowers (probably weeds) and had them behind my back when I walked home from school. I couldn't wait for her to see them! I pressed the doorbell and my mom answered with my little brother, who was probably three at the time. He saw the flowers before my mom did and cried, "Look, flowers!"
I couldn't believe he had ruined my surprise! I started to cry and I remember my mom telling me it was okay. I don't know what happened to flowers, but I do know what happened to belief in surprises.
There's something anti-climatic about receiving a gift on the day when the whole world expects you to get one. Tomorrow is Mother's Day and so every mother in this country will be waking up to breakfast in bed, or flowers, or a little wrapped box with a card that reads, "Thanks for being a great Mom."
Moms everywhere will act surprised, but are they really?
It's amazing how that flower experience as a child changed the way I viewed giving and receiving gifts. I rarely give gifts on the actual day of the event because they are expected and I want the recipient to truly be surprised.
This year, I sent my Mom flowers for Mother's Day...several days early. The Fed Ex man caught her cleaning out the garage and it made her to day, not to mention completely caught her off guard, to receive flowers on a regular day, not a "special" one.
My relationship with my mother is complicated. There remain long-buried issues that she and I must discuss in order to grow closer again. And I think that my mom has a lot of guilt about my self-injury that she shouldn't. Did she have a role to play in it? Sure. But was it totally her fault? Absolutely not.
I have spent a lifetime trying to show my mom what she means to me. No one gets to pick their parents, but I would like to think that had I been given the choice, I would have picked her.
My mom won't get flowers tomorrow, she will get a call. By now my flowers are fading, but my love for her has not.
Usually a poem.
I've been a writer forever, but I assure you the poems I wrote as a child we anything but stellar.
But my mother seemed to appreciate them, and so I found myself making her poem "booklets" tied together with yarn or something like that.
But one year I decided my mom deserved something more, and I picked some flowers (probably weeds) and had them behind my back when I walked home from school. I couldn't wait for her to see them! I pressed the doorbell and my mom answered with my little brother, who was probably three at the time. He saw the flowers before my mom did and cried, "Look, flowers!"
I couldn't believe he had ruined my surprise! I started to cry and I remember my mom telling me it was okay. I don't know what happened to flowers, but I do know what happened to belief in surprises.
There's something anti-climatic about receiving a gift on the day when the whole world expects you to get one. Tomorrow is Mother's Day and so every mother in this country will be waking up to breakfast in bed, or flowers, or a little wrapped box with a card that reads, "Thanks for being a great Mom."
Moms everywhere will act surprised, but are they really?
It's amazing how that flower experience as a child changed the way I viewed giving and receiving gifts. I rarely give gifts on the actual day of the event because they are expected and I want the recipient to truly be surprised.
This year, I sent my Mom flowers for Mother's Day...several days early. The Fed Ex man caught her cleaning out the garage and it made her to day, not to mention completely caught her off guard, to receive flowers on a regular day, not a "special" one.
My relationship with my mother is complicated. There remain long-buried issues that she and I must discuss in order to grow closer again. And I think that my mom has a lot of guilt about my self-injury that she shouldn't. Did she have a role to play in it? Sure. But was it totally her fault? Absolutely not.
I have spent a lifetime trying to show my mom what she means to me. No one gets to pick their parents, but I would like to think that had I been given the choice, I would have picked her.
My mom won't get flowers tomorrow, she will get a call. By now my flowers are fading, but my love for her has not.