Underappreciated Mothers

Yesterday, I posted about hating Mother's Day. Well, I really don't hate everything to do with Mother's Day. I think that mothers have a difficult job, so I wanted to give you a different post on the "work eve" of Mother's Day.

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It seems to me that mother's don't really get a fair shake.

Think about this "ledger sheet" that might reflect some year of mine in the mid-80s:

Mom stayed up with me much of the night because I was really sick with some virus. I remember her wiping my brow with a damp washcloth. She changed the channels on the television for me. For those of you who don't remember, there was a time when all televisions did not have remote controls. I felt so sick, so weak, so pitiful.

My Mom comforted me, and for Mother's Day, I made her a clay ash tray.

As a high schooler, I was learning about love. Not the love of middle school where you kiss a boy, get a carnation on Valentine's Day and write his name in your spiral notebook. Not that those were not good times, but when you go further, when you talk about futures, about your pasts, about what you like. In short, it is when you start to focus beyond yourself, to another person. The puppy love is mostly about you. Adolescent love is about you, but it is also about the other person. Mom listened to me as I figured this out.

My Mom listened to me, and for Mother's Day, I made her a clay ash tray.

Since my mother spooned strained peas into my mouth, my Mom made me almost every breakfast and dinner until I was out of high school. Nearly every meal on the weekends. That is about 13,000 meals. She made them with love and without complaining. And, you know, after being married and making meals for longer than I want to admit, I cannot believe that she did not ever feel like complaining. And in this year, she was teaching me to cook as well as further cementing our mother-daughter relationship. It is so much easier to talk about boys when you are cooking a meal.

My Mom cooked for me and taught me how to cook, and for Mother's Day, I made her a clay ash tray.

She did so much for me, and for Mother's Day, she got a clay ash tray. Actually, I gave her a clay ash tray years before, and she loved it. No, she did not smoke, but she loved the ash tray. That's what a mother is all about. She does not keep track on a ledger sheet, she just mothers. Happy Mother's Day to all mothers out there!