LEARNED a few days ago that Mother's Day was conceived by poet and social activist Julia Ward Howe in 1870 to honor the inherent pacificity of mothers.
What a lovely concept.
In the ensuing years, it's become one of the largest card-sending holidays and a major boon to both the telephone and restaurant industries.
Mother's Day for me started years before it should have.
My grandmother used to send me Mother's Day cards when I was in my 20s and early 30s--before I had children. Nice gesture, but I was puzzled by it.
I didn't feel I'd earned the right to receive Mother's Day cards, and I was puzzled by the sentiments within them.
I asked her about it then, simply curious as to why she'd send a Mother's Day card to a non-mother, and she explained, "Well, you'll be a mother someday ."
I thought, sure, yes, I'd like that very much. But something about it didn't feel right to me. I was supposed to be sending Mother's Day cards, not receiving them.
Still, I understood my grandmother's reasoning. I knew in my heart of hearts that I'd have children eventually--but I wasn't in a hurry. I thanked her for the cards and filed them away without much thought.
My grandmother, a very wise and active woman, is 93 now. I asked her last night if she remembers how she used to send cards to me--prematurely, in my opinion.
"Sure," she said. "I did it because Mother's Day represents the cycle of life. Life is past, present, and future. I'm the past, your mother is the present, and you're the future. It all ties in."
Of course.
My first real Mother's Day was May 10, 1998. Flowers were ceremoniously presented by my always thoughtful husband. My grandmother sent me a lovely card, but this time it felt completely different. And I was thrilled to receive it.
The day was memorable. My husband and I joined my brother and his wife for a Dim Sum brunch at a Chinese restaurant in Arlington. Baby Lindsey, then just 6 weeks old and no bigger than a platter of shrimp Lo Mein, sat in her car seat on top of the table.
She watched while the adults around her ate with chopsticks and dropped dumplings onto their laps. I think she may have smiled.
The weather was perfect, the food was great, the company was wonderful--but what I remember most about the day was that I was actually someone's mother. No longer was it just a vague notion in my head of something I might someday be, and there was a warm bundle to prove it.
It was a feeling I'll never forget.
I've experienced eight Mother's Days since. Each one has been lovely. But I think last year's was the one I'll treasure the most.
A few days before the holiday, Lindsey and I were at a local thrift store, looking through children's books for her to bring to her classroom. She spotted a large bin of stuffed animals, and her eyes, of course, got big. (My eyes rolled.)
I gave her the usual "You don't need any more of those," and tried to redirect her attention to a stack of old Bobbsey Twins books.
Being an easygoing child, she let it go and went on to the pile of books. A few minutes later, she returned to the bin of animals. She explained to me that she had a dollar with her, and she'd like to use it to buy one of the animals as a Mother's Day gift for her first-grade teacher, Mrs. Wilson.
Knowing that Lindsey was especially fond of Mrs. Wilson, I said, "Wonderful idea! I'm sure she'll love it."
We spent the next 20 minutes methodically going through the entire bin of animals, comparing this one to that one, the blue striped elephant to the beanbag squirrel, the three-foot bunny to the pink-beribboned cat. Lindsey ultimately decided on a brown bear, dressed to the nines in a three-piece blue pin-stripe suit.
Lindsey took the bear to the register and paid for him with her dollar.
When we got to the car, she held the bear behind her back for a moment, then thrust it at me, and said, "Happy Mother's Day! His name is William, and he's for you."
I stood there in the parking lot and realized that my daughter had created the ruse of carefully picking out a gift for her teacher, but it was for me. It was her idea, her dollar, and her loving gesture.
I took William and hugged him, and then I told Lindsey that it was the best Mother's Day present I ever received. I meant it.
Jewelry? Flowers? No thanks. I've got William.
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HILARY KANTER is on the editorial-page staff of The Free Lance-Star. |