Mother’s Day is fast approaching — quick, all you delinquent sons and daughters, you still have time to donate to Hallmark and get that card posted. If not, there’s still 1-800-Make-a-Panicked-Call-to-a-Florist.
It’s a nice fantasy, Mother’s Day. There’s the ‘queen for a day’ mentality. The problem is I never get to fit in everything I could use in 24 hours.
It is simply not long enough to sleep in, read the paper in peace, go for a long walk with the dog, enjoy a gourmet breakfast in bed, sit back for a spa pedicure, get a massage, stroll along the sunny wharf with the kids (who would not utter a single whine), linger in a bookstore, nibble on a picnic at the top of the Fly Hills, play a rousing game of Candyland, build a fort, order in Thai food, cuddle up with the kids in bed, and cap it all off with a candlelit bubble bath where I can drink champagne and my husband could hand-feed me chocolate-dipped strawberries.
That’s the bane of mothers everywhere — not enough time.
It’s what I found so appealing about a Mother’s Day contest I saw in the New York Times. Instead of memoirs, readers were asked to submit “momoirs,” six-word descriptions to explain your own mother or motherhood in general.
Now even I had time for this. Here’s a few of mine in tribute to my own mother. (And hopefully this will get me out of trouble if that card doesn’t arrive on time.)
Still winces at my un-ironed clothes.
There’s love in her tuna fish.
Hated the boyfriend. Kept mouth shut.
“I’m not mad, I am disappointed.”
Loved me, even when I hated.
Left cheerful notes in my lunchbag.
Here’s some of the winning entries from the Times’ contest. These are simply too good not to share.
Maker of chicken soup and dreams.
Kitchen is closed. Make it yourself.
Kids need moms. Moms need wine.
“You’re going out in that?”
“Because I’m your mother, that’s why.”
She is a force of nurture.
What’s she doing in my mirror?
Answered my questions. Questioned my answers.
Her silence is heard loud and clear.
Not all the entries were heartwarming. Just like all relationships, our ties to our mothers can sometimes be difficult.
Easier to love from a distance.
Some moms should not be moms.
I loved her, drunk or sober.
Gone suddenly. Things left to say.
If you’ve got six words to share about your mother, I’d love to hear from you. Share your comments online or email me, firstname.lastname@example.org. And to all the moms out there, here’s six more words: Hardest job ever. Rewards beyond compare.