A Day for Mothers
A short take.
My daughter will call me today, on Mother’s Day to tell me she forgot to send my gift, but either a card will come in the mail in a couple of days, or we’ll celebrate later this month when I make my annual cross-country drive to Ohio to visit with her on her birthday.
A part of me would think that this was a sign I’d done something wrong or she didn’t really think about me. I know that isn’t true because I know her. She’ll punish herself all day for forgetting to send something on time. I will tell her not to worry. It’s part of becoming an adult.
Then I will tell her that, here I am, a lifetime older than she is and my present to my mother, hand-made soap purchased on Etsy, won’t arrive until after Mother’s Day either. It is what it is. We’ve never been the most organized people in my family.
The frustrating thing about being a parent is how fast children grow up. It isn’t that they should live forever, but just that time moves too fast. The older you get, the faster it speeds by. Weeks feel days. Years feel like weeks. We try hard not to think about that part of it. We feel lucky, all of us, to wake up at all.
My mom had four kids before the age of 25, which mostly meant she never really had a chance to live her life because she had to survive, and somehow, we all made it through (that is how she sees it, anyway). It wasn’t easy, but I give her credit for everything she’s built in the years after we grew up, and how generous and giving she has been to her children.
It makes sense for all of us to gather for dinner to celebrate and so we will.
Back in the 1990s, when everyone on the Left was getting into therapy, we’d all seen Robert Redford’s Ordinary People and the idea was to hold your parents accountable for crimes against you in childhood. In the 1970s, there were lots of crimes against children, both real crimes and things many of us would grow up to resent later, hence the therapy.
My generation spent decades blaming our parents because what else were we going to do? We were encouraged to leave our bad parents behind or confront them and make them explain themselves — how could you do this to me, I was just a kid.
In my mom’s case, she was practically a kid herself. My daughter is older now than my mom was when she had all of us. I’m sure she wouldn’t be the perfect parent either, no one is.
That “holding our parents accountable” thing is what ultimately led to crippling cancel culture. At some point, we have to learn how to live in the moment and not in the past. And most of all, how to forgive others for who they are and what they believe.
I will spend the day working, as always, and hope to post a podcast tonight. Happy Mother’s Day to all of the moms out there. You are loved, whether your present arrived in time or not.
"Feminist talk" is apparently stating the obvious, that my mother felt as though she didn't get to live her life. I forgot that on the Right women are not allowed to think that, not ever, not for one second. But it's the truth. That is how she felt about it and what she told us. Does she feel that way now? Probably. My mistake here was in writing from her perspective because I was trying to write a tribute to her. It was not meant to be an anti-feminist screed, though I have written many of those. Today was not the day to do that. Happy Mother's Day.
Sasha. Have you ever thought your Mom’s best life was being the mom to the four of you?