Easy Like Sunday Morning
This Sunday, when my mom friends are having their well-deserved massages and brunches, I will probably be doing my usual Sunday morning run to Starbucks and Whole Foods. The afternoon will be pretty typical too. No flowers. No gifts. And no unhappiness either. You see, I don’t do Mother’s Day. It’s just not important to me.
Part of the reason for my disinterest in Mother’s Day is because I didn’t grow up with it as a big occasion. My own mother never cared about Mother Day’s, declaring it a made-up holiday. (She is not a particularly sentimental woman, my mother. I have inherited that trait from her. My husband is the marshmallow in our family.) My parents bought presents and sent flowers to their mothers, who did care, but my father never got my mother a present – after all, she wasn’t his mother. And my brother and I were not expected to get presents for our mother either. I remember, as a teenager, being relieved that I did not have to find a perfect gift for my mother or get dragged to an extended family brunch upon pain of grounding, like many of my friends. My mom is an intellectual! An English professor! Caring about Mother’s Day is so not her thing.
Having grown up with this jaded attitude towards Mother’s Day, I could hardly claim to care deeply about it now that I am a mother. I certainly do not begrudge any other mothers their day. Goodness knows all mothers deserve some recognition and some pampering. However, I can’t help but wonder if we are making too big a deal about Mother’s Day. In my area, all kid activities cease on Mother’s Day. My daughter has a soccer game every Sunday afternoon from April through June, except Mother’s Day. Really? It’s not acceptable to schedule a kid soccer game on Mother’s Day? Is it like supposed to be twelve solid hours of family togetherness? Or is it that moms should not be expected to spend an hour of their special day watching their kids play soccer? I honestly don’t get it.