Mother's Day, Schmother's Day

I have always found it ironic that the thing most women want for Mother's Day is a break from all the stuff that is related to being a mother. For my part, I'm just hoping to avoid any involvment with dishes. I do not want to wash dishes, put away dishes or set a table. So far, so good.

The Child has been acting like she's got something up her sleeve but she's out with the M Street gang and I don't expect to see her until it's time for her to make dinner. Maybe making dinner is the thing up her sleeve. That is swell because a home can only contain so many picture frames made out of popsicle sticks.

I'm trying to be tough, in case you haven't noticed. Here's the thing. This morning, in Mass, the Schola Cantorum, of which The Child is a member, sang with the men from the Cathedral Choir. As May is one of the months wherein the Virgin Mary gets special attention, the choir always sings a Marian hymn at the end of mass. This morning it was the Ave Maria by the modern composer Beibl. I ripped it off a CD of our choir so I could put it up for you but it's not an mp3 file and I'm not geek enough to figure out how else to get it to you. I even went on line to try and find some mp3s of it, and I did, but they didn't sound ANYTHING like our choir so I just gave it all up. Suffice to say, it is a very beautiful hymn and if you ever have occasion to hear it sung by a good choir you will be fortunate, indeed.

The choirs gathered on the altar during the final prayers and were facing the priest, which means they were also facing the pews in which we were sitting. The Child was in the second row but I caught a glimps of her little face and it hit me: there are only 6 years left before she technically is out of the house. Now, maybe she'll live with us until she's 30 but something tells me, not so much. And 6 years isn't a long time. I know, because we've already had her for 12 and I can still remember like yesterday all her little baby ways. And she's not a baby any more. She doesn't need me in the same ways as she used to. Which is not to say that I'm anything like off the hook with this mothering thing. It's just that it all changes so fast and sometimes I can't keep up.

Anyway, I have this "just 6 more years" revelation thing and then she saw me. She smiled broadly and pulled her ear and I pulled mine back. Then she turned with the rest of the choir toward the statue of Mary and started singing this absolutely gorgeous hymn and even though I have heard it a 100 times it caught me someplace deep down and I just stood there quietly weeping.

Maybe it's just because "The West Wing" is ending tonight. That's probably it.

Happy Mother's Day to any of you who answer to that calling (as our priest said this a.m.). And also to any of you who, in the capacity of sister, auntie, friend or godperson have occasion to inform and nurture the lives of younglings. And also to all of you who ever had or currently are in possession of a mother and to all of you responsible for making someone a mother.

Now I have to go comfort The Child, who just came home crying. Oh goody. I still have my uses.