A Day for Mother

 

Mother’s Day is the one day a year when Mother gets to put her feet up and is waited on hand and foot by her minion. Father brings her an iced coffee, just the way she likes it. The children deliver the remote control, blankets, and a snack. Uninterrupted, Mother watches an entire episode of BBC-produced British period piece on PBS. It is pure bliss.

Mothers may partake in an afternoon nap or indulge with a visit to the spa. This is your day, Mother! Unless, of course, Mother, you have a Mother of your own. Then Mother must plan the day for her Mother. We’ll show up, of course, double the flowers and pick up the tab. But planning is your thing. So just tell us what to do, when to do it, what to wear, and we’ll be there. But Mother, if your Mother isn’t in the picture, then… this is your day!

Make the most of it because it’s just one day. Yes, one day. One single day of the year. Just one. Fun fact: There are 365 days in the year. Mother is on call – twenty-four hours a day – for 365 of them. I mean, if someone’s sick in the middle of the night on, say, Mother’s Day, Mother doesn’t say, It’s after hours, Junior. I’m not on the clock until seven a.m. What do you got, Little One? Tummy ache? Fever? Well, there’s the internet over there. Google away. No, no. Mother is always on. Always. And for her tireless devotion to others, year after year after year, tell Mother what she’s won… Brunch!

That’s right. Most days, we eat three meals a day, but for Mother’s Day, we whittle this down to two. Breakfast and lunch might seem like a strange marriage. And yet many people think… But, do you know what this breakfast is missing? Lunch! You know what I’d like to pair with this omelet? A sandwich! So, Mother gets brunch in order, I assume, to free herself from all that time spent eating three meals a day.

In the United States, Mother’s Day was first celebrated in 1907 in West Virginia. By 1911, every state in the country joined the party. Hallmark got in on the action in the 20s. Some people are shocked, shocked that anyone would try to make a buck on this sacred day, a day some nice lady invented out of thin air. But in Casablanca, Captain Renault was also shocked, shocked to find that there was gambling going on at Rick’s Café. What can I say? The world is shocking. Shocking.

So, what makes Mother a mother? She has a uterus (or had one, anyway; some women get rid of theirs) and used it to bring life into this world. (That is everything I know about biology.) So, yes, Mother brought life into this world, which is hard. But the great Billy Wilder said it well when he finished writing a script and now all he had to do was shoot the movie. So Wilder said, Now we’re done with the hard part. Now comes the hard part.

Fun fact about the smallest humans: they’re extremely bad at not dying. The smallest humans are inexplicably drawn to open water, electrical outlets, wild animals, fire, cliffs, etc. Thus, now Mother must steer her offspring away from certain death and, instead, towards all things life! Just until the offspring is big enough to take care of itself. Just thirty years or so. Give or take.

And what does Mother get for thirty years, give or take, of selfless love, devotion, and commitment? One day.

But Mothers are tough, man. They didn’t get into the game thinking it was going to be one big parade. No. Mothers became mothers because they were drawn to a life of service. For Mothers, the work itself is the reward. I mean, it has to be. The rest of us are so selfish so much of the time. And Mothers do it, I assume, because they have this innate belief that they can make the world better. And they’re right. The world is empirically a better place for them. Well, that’s a bit of an understatement. The world is a world because of Mothers. (Can you imagine what men would do to this planet if they didn’t have to answer to their Mothers?)

So, Mother, we love you! We don’t always show it like we should, but you make us better. You are our heart, our soul. You make our house a home. Today is your day.

That said: What’s for dinner?