I woke up on Sunday and groaned. Let the self-pity party begin. Where was my gift? My breakfast in bed with homemade cards and flowers picked from the yard? How about just a cup of coffee? My mother’s day vision and my reality were not aligning!
I continued on to church, grudgingly picking up the coffee for the fellowship hour. Couldn’t a MAN take care of this, just this once? The middle-aged woman behind the Starbucks counter had the countenance of a storm cloud. It was obvious she could think of better things to do on HER mother’s day.
I talked with a friend at church. She rolled her eyes about making dinner for her mother-in-law. With six young children between us, we wondered aloud about when we would get a whole day of honor we deserved, or at least a break from making dinner!
I came home and struggled over my mother’s day gifts for my mom and mother-in-law. They won’t be making it in the mail in time.
This is why I hate Mother’s Day. It’s so forced. I don’t want Hallmark telling me when to honor my mom, nor do I want that burden thrust upon my children. But mostly, I don’t want to buy into the pity party of a day when I don’t get what I “deserve.”
How is it possible for all mothers to be happy and served on mother’s day? I have friends who’ve recently lost their mothers to cancer. I have friends who wish they could be mothers but it hasn’t happened. This is a sad day for my friends. How about the single mothers? Who’s cooking for their kids tonight? How about all the mothers who work in restaurants today, serving other mothers? It’s a recipe for discontentment.
But I won’t let the corporate machine keep me down. Earlier this week my five-year-old son taped a sign to my bathroom mirror. It said “I (heart) Mom.” A spontaneous expression from his heart? I’ll take that over a forced facade of love any day of the week.
Next year, I’m going put myself aside, and think of those women that don’t get exactly what they are looking for on mother’s day. A phone call to the one who lost her mother. A note for the one who’s husband is deployed. A little gift for the ones who have been spiritual mothers to me. Hallmark makes money on people feeling guilty about what they “should” be doing on this day. But next year, I will reclaim this day for good … if I could just get that cup of coffee in bed.
