My Mother is not Checking Facebook in Heaven and My Other Mother’s Day Truths

Mother’s Day wasn’t much of a big deal in my home. It does seem odd looking back. Dad was a kind man, but for some reason, Mother’s Day wasn’t his thing. Maybe because her birthday was a few days before, or maybe it was because she only had one kid. Barely a mother. As I got older, he left mothers day to me. He would give me money and tell me to buy her something, but I never quite hit the mark. One year I bought her a Dustbuster, and she didn’t talk to either of us for a while. I still think it was a cool gift.

 

Mothers Day is Boring in the USA

Mothers Day worldwide is way more exciting than some overpriced flowers, cards, and a nice dinner that is standard fare in this country. The best way it’s celebrated is in Yugoslavia, where children creep into their parent’s bedroom first thing in the morning and tie the mom up. To be freed mom must present her kids with gifts as soon as she wakes up. I want to flip that around and tie my kids up and then only release them when they present me with some wonderful gifts. Stay down, Child services.

 The American incarnation of Mother’s Day was created by Anna Jarvis in 1908 and became an official U.S. holiday in 1914. The interesting part is that Jarvis would later denounce the holiday’s commercialization, and she spent the latter part of her life trying to remove it from the calendar.  

I agree with Anna. I will go as far as to say that my feelings about Mother’s Day, although as not as severe as my father’s, still are not in sync with the mainstream. I have my own truths—sorry, Hallmark.

Digging Holes Do Not Bring All Mother’s Joy

I love a pretty flower, but I do not love putting it in the ground. I am a mother that does not like to garden on Mother’s Day. For starters, I don’t own a floppy hat because they don’t make them big enough to fit my gigantic head. Never have I found the zen and peacefulness of gardening. I find slugs and exploding hoses. One year my husband planted flowers for me on Mother’s Day. That worked.

Fake News

We all know that people lie on Social Media. We know photos are filtered, friends are embellished, and fun is exaggerated. One underlooked deception is the portrayal of all these perfect Mother-child relationships. Any mother worth her stretch marks knows she hasn’t succeeded as a parent unless her kids say they hate her at least once. 

Hallmark sucks.

Hallmark was the precursor to Social Media. Before people could spend hours scrolling social media to see how shitty their relationships compare to others, they had the local card shop. Shopping for a Mother’s Day card was torture. The models for these cards must all be some idealized tv version of a TV mom. Any mother of a teenager that sends a card that says, “You bring me joy every time I see your face,” is just a bold face liar.  

Why are you not accepting my Friend Request?

No disrespect to my deceased mother, but she was not my best friend. She was my mother. She loved me, fed me, and ran after me with a bedroom slipper to smack me senseless when I misbehaved. Put the phone down. I don’t hit my kids. There was the one time I threw my son across the room, but I digress. 

Others may disagree with me, but successful friendships are based on equality. The mom and kid dynamic needs inequality. The equilibrium needs to be off for it to succeed.  My daughter is not my best friend. Raising a daughter in the 2000s (does anyone say aughts?) is a whole stratosphere away from being raised in the ’60s. My parents did not play games with me, take me on vacations, or even socialize on Saturday nights with me. It wasn’t done. On the contrary, my kids’ lives were so thoroughly intertwined with mine that I became a bath taker only to get some time alone. Nothing keeps a kid away more than the thought they might see a naked mom.

Generational differences aside, the love is the same. My daughter confides in me, cries to me, counts on me but knows I am flawed, a bit off the deep end at times, and always flying by the seat of my pants. In other words, her mother. 

No WiFi in Heaven

When she was alive, it took three telephone screaming matches and my father’s intervention before my mother could figure out how to check an email. I have no idea what will come after we leave this world, but it’s a safe bet to say that Elaine Greenberg is not checking Facebook messages on Mother’s Day.  

Leave the Kids at Home

On my first Mother’s Day as a mom, I set a horrible precedent. Before I had kids, my ritual was to run(who am I kidding -walk) a Breast cancer race held on Mother’s Day. It must have been postpartum that made me think it was a good idea to get up early and bring my 3-month-old daughter. Ditch the kid and go to brunch.

No Matter What You Do, You Will Become Your Mother

Nature, nurture, whatever, if you live with someone for 18 years, you will start doing all the annoying things you said that you wouldn’t. I scream, I nag, and I embarrass. I  never chased my kid onto the school bus in my bathrobe to hand over a forgotten lunch. I do regret that.

Happy Mother’s Day

Mirror mirror on the wall, I have become my mother after all

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