Mothers Day

A long time ago, when I was young and my children were young, too, I impressed upon them that while I loved their Mothers Day gifts, especially those goofy ones made in school, every day was a good day to love your Mother.  In other words, no need for an elaborate celebration on the second Sunday in May.  Just make your Mom happy every day of the year and all would be fine.

Well, what a jerk I was in that realm.  Because I chose not to impress upon my kids the importance of a one-day-a-year celebration of Mothers, I have had many years of no cards, no gifts, no celebratory items of this day.  Yes, they call and if they don't (as has happened, although I do not like to remind them of that) they get a raft of shit the next day.  But yes, they now call and I love that they do.

But it has been a while since I got an actual Mothers Day gift but I really don't care, the day is about talking to your Mom, not sending stuff.

Yesterday, Saturday, I made breakfast for 14 people, helped clean up that mess, shopped and prepped for the next day and came home for a couple of hours. I then went back to the inn to check in two guests.  When I walked into the kitchen, there on the long wooden work counter was a beautiful bouquet.  Since I have been conditioned over the years to not expect Mothers Day flowers, I immediately assumed they were for one of the many Moms who were staying at the inn for the weekend.  I thought "Oh, that's so nice to send a Mom these flowers!"  I looked for the florist card and, zut alors!  It had my name on it.  Could that be correct?  Were they for me?  Yes they were!  This beautiful, fragrant, sweet, delicate bouquet of roses, tulips, stock, alstroemaria and lilies and greens was for ME from my sweet, gorgeous daugher Jennifer!  I promptly burst into tears.  (Which is so unlike me.)

So, there is a lesson here, boys and girls.  It's OK to cry over gorgeous bouquets and never doubt the power of love.  It can surprise you. It should surprise you .

Of course, when I talked to Jenn and told her how much I loved the flowers, how surprised I was and how long it had been since anyone sent me flowers, she had the perfect retort:  "Really, Mom?  You think FTD would have delivered to Inverness?  To the oyster farm where you worked?  Not a chance."  So now that I live near a florist, can I expect this to happen on a regular basis?  No.  But hey, once a year is just fine with me. 

At the end of this Mothers Day I hope all of you who read this said "thanks" to someone who helped you grow up.  In almost everyone's life there has been someone who, for a moment or a day or a month, has made the journey through childhood a little easier.  It can be anyone, man or woman, related or not, but hopefully there is/was some person who had a hand in making each of you feel a little less crappy about growing up. If you can't say "thanks" in person, at least acknowledge them in your heart and say it out loud, even if they can't hear.  Life can be difficult but it can also be sweet because of someone's care.  Thanks to all moms out there. It's the hardest job ever.  But sometimes the best.

love, long time, big time, all the time.

xoxoxo

j.