Mother's Day

You probably won't be surprised to hear that I don't care much for Mother's Day.
I don't have a problem celebrating my mom or K's mom - I like finding the perfect cards for them. I've worked hard to make sure the boys understand and appreciate all the things they do for us, I enjoy time with each of them...and I only have one aunt and love her dearly....But, I don't know, over the years Mother's Day turned into my children having to pay homage to me with dinners and presents and cards and "don't make plans with your friends for Sunday, it's Mother's Day."
When my kids were in elementary school there was a Mother's Day Fair. Vendors would bring all manner of trinkets in and the kids would purchase gifts for their moms. I have mugs and flashlights and key-chains and somehow it all turned into a flea market of things that merchants decided my kids should buy for me.
Long story long, Mother's Day has ended up feeling sort of silly. I love being their mom. I love my mom. I don't need a day.



This week, this year, is different.
My dear, sweet cousin had her baby this week.
My dear sweet cousin, whom I remember sososo clearly holding in my arms when I was 13 years old, had a baby girl this week.
On Friday afternoon, K and I trekked uptown, through crowds and heat and noise and obstacles to see her - to see them, hours after the birth. We dragged through traffic and up into a maze of a tomb-like silent hospital, anxious and excited, clutching and protecting flowers eager to see her as fast as possible.
I expected a family reunion. I assumed that my aunt and uncle, the in-law grandparents, a sister or two and the proud dad would be there.
But, after hesitating and then calling, we opened the door and found ourselves alone with my cousin and her tiny perfect new daughter.
I have a million words - and none.
We had the most perfect moments.
We savored and smelled and held this astounding, tiny, new, wonderful little girl.
We stood and sat and stared and talked quietly in that tall, still, dimly lit place for as long as we thought she could stand us. My cousin-in-law returned and we congratulated him and left them to have time alone as a new family.
So now, this Mother's Day, I can only think of this. Of how my dear, sweet cousin is having her first Mother's Day. Of how, one day, her tiny baby F will come home from kindergarten with a crayon drawn card, of all the flowers she'll get, of how proud I am of her, of how very dear she is to me, and I am softened.



My boys agreed, at my request, to work the food drive last night. It was their gift to me: four hours of their time, doing something for other people. It pleased me as much as the Lucky Penny key-chain Oldest bought me at the school fair in 1991.

Happy Mother's Day.