today is mother's day. my two darlings are dutifully coming over, giving up a sunday in bed with the new york times and assorted girlfriends, in order to schlep over here, gifts in hand, to pay homage to their mother and her stretch marks. i don't know anyone who is really comfortable with mother's day. as a concept it's probably not a bad idea - to set aside one day a year to recognize mothers - but in reality it never seems to work out as well as one would hope.
it would be nice to think that children let their mother's know that they are loved and appreciated every day of the year. unfortunately, that is not usually the case, so it has been left to hallmark to manufacture a day where not only mother's get to be adored, but greeting card companies, florists and candy manufacturers get to rake in the big bucks.
i remember a day, years ago, when my mother told me that she didn't believe in mother's day. it was a sham and we should just ignore it. i believed her. she didn't speak to me for a week. i am too insecure to ever tell my children to ignore mother's day, they just might do it. without mother's day i would never have had a suitcase full of popsicle stick trivets and macrame potholders, not to mention the forever keepsakes of tiny little hand prints set in clay. maybe it was, when the children were young, that the trivets and potholders were what really made us feel like mothers. today it will be enough that my grown children will come home and let me, for a few hours, mother them again.