I was commiserating with a friend about how The Man had to work on Mother’s Day and because he’d be coming in from work at an hour when no stores were open and then leaving again for work that night, I’d likely get ignored this year as I do every year he has to work.
And the children have “gifts” planned but I know they are coming from the many things that Bebe has made at school and at Girl Scouts. She’ll be no doubt spreading that love around and adding her brothers’ names to her gifts because even at this young age, she gets that guys are clueless.
I was beginning to get down, low, and outright pissy about Mother’s Day. I would not get breakfast in bed (the kids would burn down my kitchen), dinner out (I’d be the one paying if I did), or an afternoon to myself (can’t leave the kids run amok while daddy sleeps), and of course there is no one to offer to take over my role for a day so I could have any of these things.
It’s just like every other day.
And that, in all honesty, pissed me off.
I know my friend didn’t want me to complain. The day is different for her as she’s without her mom. I can’t see how she feels because my mom is here still. So I tried to curb my complaining and spare her the details.
It wasn’t until I read a tweet that put EVERYTHING in perspective for me. A mom tweeted that she put in her order for Mother’s Day Breakfast and was remiss because the family probably wouldn’t listen and would give her something different; something she didn’t want.
That pissed me off too.
My thought was, at least you have someone who can screw up your Mother’s Day breakfast. There are a lot of moms out there who don’t. Who will be alone on Mother’s Day for one reason or another or will have to wait until their better half (who puts a roof over their family’s head) has a day off. There are moms whose sons and daughters are in a foreign land fighting to keep our land free from terrorists so you can have your breakfast screwed up. There are mothers who have lost their own mothers and don’t know what to do with themselves on this day, and moms who are feeling the sadness of losing their own children.
I had whined and complained about this Mother’s Day enough to realize in that one tweet from another mom, that I no longer have anything to bitch about this year.
If you’re going to see your mom, get to call her on the phone, or take her flowers, then be glad you can. There are million of moms out there who can’t and there are millions more who won’t have that done for them this year.
I get why we want to whine about Mother’s Day and all it’s specialness but honestly, the specialness of the day is what we make it to be. It’s harder for some, I know – I’m there. But when I stop and think about the moms that I know who have lost children, lost their own mothers, or are miles away from their babies, I offer myself the advice to shut the hell up.
What you get for breakfast, what your children or hubby try to do or make for you tomorrow, is so unimportant compared to the loss that other moms are experiencing; some loss is temporary and some loss is permanent – and those moms may never feel the same about Mother’s Day again.
To give you an example… you know my sister and Zoe. I feel very fortunate to have them both with me. Zoe has lost two heart transplant friends in the last 6 months. One was 15, the other was 9. Those moms are still grieving and will be for a very long time. Those moms will not receive handmade gifts this year or kisses from their daughters. They will not receive them next year or the year after. In the blogworld, I’ve seen many moms who are going to be forever touched by loss and feel a sort of emptiness on Mother’s Day.
All it took for me to put my own gripes aside was the realization that I’m very lucky. All of my kids will kiss me tomorrow morning, The Man will make up Mother’s Day to me somehow (he always does), and I will likely have to throw breakfast together on my own (I’m thinking donuts and OJ) as I usually do every other day. And that will be just fine with me.
We all want shiny, wonderful things for Mother’s Day but without our children, our families, our mothers, does it really matter what we get?
So I’ve decided to put aside my own Mother’s Day wish list in exchange for one that I am sending out to those who are fortunate enough to still have their children and mothers in their lives; shut up and quit whining.
Really. I wish you would just stop. For one day.
If I can do it, so can you.
Instead, I want you to listen to the sound of your children fighting and arguing, or laughing and being silly. Feel their kisses on your cheek and their hugs a little longer. Call or see your own mother and let her talk for a change, listen to the sound of her voice. Don’t complain.
Because I guarantee that somewhere in the world, there is a mom who doesn’t have what you do and WISHES she was doing those things too.