So, if you read my previous post, you’d know my mom recently passed away. Which sucks, a lot. I’m not sure the reality of her being gone has fully sunk (or is it sank?) in yet, but I’m trying really, really hard to make her proud and get back to my life of writing, raising my boys, playing tennis, and spending quality time with my friends and family.
But, with everyone talking about Mother’s Day and their own moms, it’s starting to become more real for me that my mom isn’t here. Okay, I’ll stop that thought process now, because I promised you this wouldn’t be a depressing post. Instead, I’m going to conjure up the good memories of past Mother’s Days with my mom and tell you about our traditions.
My mom was always tough to buy gifts for because she never seemed to want anything. Sometimes I’d try to surprise her with something creative, but often I’d panic and buy her some pretty soaps and lotions or a book I thought she might like.
After I became a mom myself, every year my mom would give ME a Mother’s Day gift. I’d protest and say, “But I’m not your mom!”
She’d laugh and make up some excuse as to why I deserved a gift from her too.
My mom was a GIVER. Nothing made her happier than to be able to give gifts.
So, every year on Mother’s Day, she gifted me with the same thing: a pair of new pajamas. I’m not sure why she came up with this, but I loved it. Who can’t use a good pair of cozy PJ’s, right?
After the gift-giving, we’d sometimes go for a walk or just hang around our house. Then, it was time to feed everyone.
My mom and I shared a dislike for cooking, so sometimes we’d all go out for brunch or dinner, but when the kids were younger, this wasn’t always an appealing option. My husband, who loves to cook, would offer to prepare a nice dinner for us all so that we wouldn’t have to drag the kids into a restaurant and cause the usual noisy chaos that we seemed to bring everywhere. That worked really well, until it came time for clean-up. Inevitably, my mom and I would be in the kitchen doing the dishes.
“WTF?” I’d say to her. (My mom was never one to shy away from curse words).
“Why are WE cleaning up? This isn’t fair,” I’d complain.
My mom would agree, and tell me about Mother’s Days from when she was a young mother, hosting the two grandmothers, plus the kids and other relatives. She’d end up doing all the work and be exhausted by the end of the day.
With me, my mom appeared tireless though and always helped me clean up until the kitchen was spotless.
After the boys were in bed, and my parents went home, I’d go upstairs and crawl into my new pajamas and relax with the latest book I was reading.
I finally understand what those pajamas were for and why my mom chose to give them to me every year. She knew I’d be wiped out at the end of the “holiday,” just like she had been when she was a mom with young kids. And although I may not receive a new pair this year, I’ll dig out one of the older ones on Sunday night, and fall asleep dreaming of a very smart mama who took care of me until the very end of her life…
P.S….okay, maybe this was a little sad. But, I truly meant it to be a fond memory of a special Mother’s Day gift.