Mother's Day Reflections

For the record, I really did have a lovely Mother's Day. The Family was properly attentive and sweet and I enjoyed my day very much. That said, Mother's Day is a joke.

"WHAT?" you cry. "How can you say such a thing about a time honored tradition that is dedicated solely to the celebration of all things mother?"

Well, first of all, I say, don't shout. Let's use our inside voices, please. And second, it's true.

I was listening yesterday to some women - hard working, deserving moms - who'd had a less than stellar day and were disappointed. And I thought, been there.

There have been Mother's Days that were not superfantastic: the one I spent in the bedroom with my 18 month old because her father wanted to watch "Pulp Fiction" and there was no way to keep her from seeing it unless we were ensconced elsewhere. (Why didn't I take her out and do something fun? I was too busy being a martyr and feeling ticked off that no one was making a fuss over me). There was the one just last year when The Child and her father were at each other's throats all day.

But then I think, the only thing that made those days a pain was my expectation that something glorious was supposed to be happening. If The Spouse wants to watch a movie that isn't family appropriate on any other Sunday of the year I bat not an eyelash. When he and The Child argue, well, I don't like it particularly but why is it a criminal offense when they go to it on "my day". Says who?

Hallmark, mostly.

Mother's Day rivals Christmas and Valentine's Day for rampant consumerism. But that's not the most sick and wrong part of it all. What's sick and wrong is that all of a sudden, women every where start fantasizing about being Queen for a Day. Breakfast in bed, pliable and adoring children, considerate dish-washing, meal preparing, house-cleaning spouses. They will be massaged, petted, stuffed with chocolates and plied with champagne. The entire day's activities will be given over to what Mama wants and what Mama deserves, and what she deserves is nothing but the best we can offer.

Then it doesn't happen. The reality doesn't meet the expectation. And all of a sudden, mothers everywhere feel worse than they would on any other day of the year.

Here's the thing: what's so special about the 2nd Sunday of May? In a perfect world, every day should be Mother's Day. I for one would rather have my child tell me that she loves me because she's feeling the love than because she's "supposed to". And breakfast in bed? Who doesn't love that? But the fact that The Spouse brings me coffee every morning before he leaves for work says more to me about his consideration and devotion than a plate of Eggs Bennie. (Not that his Eggs Benedict isn't a big deal).

Every single day I make important and largely unsung contributions to this family. Every. Day. I do it because I love them, because I want to live in a tidy house, because I want to eat good food ('k, I over-cooked the pork chops last night, but usually I shoot and score). I do what I do because I have a notion about the kind of family we should be, about the kind of child I hope to turn loose on the world someday and bringing that notion to reality is a lot of work. I don't do it for pay (God knows), I don't do it for accolades or jewelry. I do it because it's important work to which I've committed myself, body and soul. And yes, what I do should be acknowledged and celebrated. As should The Spouse be acknowledged and celebrated for his contributions. I think The Child should be supported and encouraged when she shows promise. Or makes her bed. And I think we could all do a better job of paying attention to the efforts of the others in the family and not take it all so for granted. But again, when The Spouse sits back after a particularly good dinner (not last night's pork chops) and says, "That was really good, honey", it gives me great joy. When one of them says, "I love what you did with x, y, or z" I feel a sweet, calm peace. When we acknowledge the goodness of our life, when we sit together peaceably, when we laugh loud and long, those times are the height and summit of my experience as a mom and they are worth more than any amount of jewels or roses or Eggs Benedict. (I do love my Eggs Benedict, though).

I'm just saying that if the family needs one day to gut up and tell me I'm a good mom (or wife or homemaker), then we're probably doing something wrong. If The Child gives me a big sloppy kiss on Saturday and The Spouse raves about me on Monday, it shouldn't matter if no one said anything on Sunday, even if it is the 2nd Sunday of May. And sure, if they want to continue making a fuss on Mother's Day, that's fine. But it means more to me that they make a fuss at other times of the year, too. That's how I know I'm doing my job. Because in the end, I'm not doing this for the glory. To my knowledge, no one ever won a Nobel for being a good wife and mom. The reward is in a (fundamentally) content husband, a (reasonably) well-behaved child and a (mostly) happy, peaceful family.

Speaking of peace, did you know that Mother's Day in the US began in 1870 with Julia Ward Howe? (Sure, you've heard of her...she's responsible for turning a Union army song into the "Battle Hymn of the Republic"). She was inspired by a woman named Ann Jarvis, who started what she called "Mothers' Work Days", organizing women to work for better sanitary conditions for both sides during the Civil War. In 1868 she began to work reconciling Union and Confederate neighbors. Howe was so moved by Mrs. Jarvis' efforts that she wrote a Mother's Day Proclamation as a call for peace and disarmament. She wasn't able to get recognition for a formal holiday...that came later, party due to the efforts of Ana Jarvis, daughter of Ann. In 1908, at the church where her mom had taught Sunday School, the younger Jarvis handed out carnations to all the mothers, in honor of her own. The notion caught on and became a national holiday in 1914 (thank you, President Wilson). Within 9 years the holiday was already so commercial that Ana Jarvis herself became a huge opponent of what the day had become. Twasn't the point, you see, for it to be about cards and chocolates. It was supposed to be about peace and reconciliation.

I expect we'll still have some sort of to-do here for Mother's Day. Father's Day as well. Because we are the sort of people who will use any excuse for a party. But it would be even better if on those days and the other 363 days of the year we bent our energies to living peaceably and kindly with each other. And eating Eggs Benedict more than once a year.

Mother's Day Proclamation - 1870

Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the bosom of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe out dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.

-Julia Ward Howe