Come to think of it, taking care of Mom on her big day is kind of like giving an extra tip to one’s favorite hairdresser or the newspaper delivery person at Christmas, right? It helps build goodwill.
Like Gil always says, “You have to give to get.”
Our only child does not necessarily embrace that notion. She considers Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Grandparents’ Day, Valentine’s Day, Groundhog’s Day — come to think of it, any holiday that doesn’t involve a gift or shots of Irish whiskey (St. Patrick’s Day) coming her way — to be completely bogus. She calls them “fake holidays” and flat-out refuses to participate.
The last time I remember receiving a Mother’s Day gift and card that were (purportedly) from her was when she was an unusually cranky newborn. I was overwrought, and her father thought it wise to cheer me up. That was 25 long years ago.
There have actually been Mother’s Days when I’ve been on the phone with our daughter, tried to prompt her to give me a long-distance “Happy Mother’s Day” and gotten the following response: “Yeah, whatever.”
So, despite my not-so-subtle reminders to her this week that Sunday is the main event, I expect no card or flowers. It’s OK, really, because she calls me (she’s living in Kentucky these days) at least 10 times a week to shoot the breeze or to pepper me with questions about life, or cooking, or men. When I answer my phone, she says, “Mama!” with great warmth and enthusiasm, and I know that I am loved. Who could ask for more?