Last week I had a lovely Mom's Day. My husband and son were much nicer than I deserved. It was a perfect spring day. They took me out to breakfast and presented me with a certificate for a massage at the Open Center. We watched Ben play baseball in the West Village and had lunch at the White Horse Tavern. It was truly a lovely day.
Friends congratulated me on my fine treatment and I responded with gratitude and praise for my beloved family.
I kinda left out the part that being nice to me on Mom's Day is akin to leaving symbolic offerings on the edge of a live volcano and that my husband is well aware of this unspoken fact.
Being a mom is hard work. It's easy to feel invisible because in a sense, you are as fundamental to the life of your family as a major utility. One day last year, a slight change in the details of a holiday led to one of the most memorable gifts of my mommyhood.
It was Easter and I was extremely burned out and depressed at my old job. It was all I could do to throw together Easter baskets for Ben and Brian -- a ritual I usually perform with relish. When Ben woke up and found his basket, he looked a bit confused. There was no small stuffed Snoopy to be found. I apologized and admitted my surprise that he noticed. He then went on to describe in minute detail the contents of every Easter basket I ever gave him and our routines for other holidays. Tears of amazement came rolling down my cheeks.
Jesus,,, they really do notice!
I hope all the hard working moms out there had a wonderful Mother's Day. Cheers to you! And cheers to the kid who spray painted the Mother's Day greeting on the 9th Street sidewalk that I have posted above. I walk by it everyday and smile.