Mother's Day Archives - Page 3 of 5 - Mothering in the Middle

’57 at 57

by Elizabeth Gregory

My mom had her first baby in 1957, the peak of the boom. Since day one, I could take for granted that whatever was happening to me was going to be interesting or at least familiar to multitudes. And as a Dr. Spock devotee and nursery school teacher with an MA in early childhood education, my mom was perfectly cast to grow my feeling of specialness, even among the hordes of my equally special peers.

1957 was 57 years ago this year, and as I move through my first Mother’s Day without my mom in the world, I know my loneliness is shared by millions of motherless women and men, boomers and non. For some of us the effect is intensified by missing our dads as well—all access cut to that private family culture of people who get our old jokes and references, and who reliably care about what we think and what we and our kids are doing. What’s the use of a smart-phone if there’s no mom or dad on the other end to savor the photos of my kids that I keep almost sending them? […]

My Daughter’s Mothers

Hanni Beyer Lee

My three daughters were all adopted from China at older ages. Despite the immense losses each of them have carried, they have loved me and accepted my affection and care without question.

It doesn’t mean they have not hurt inside or pushed back at me. But they have called me Mama from the get-go and always reached out when they needed me.

My second daughter has a different story. We found her family early on. Her life in a state-run orphanage in the historical city of Nanjing ended at age 7 when I flew there to get her. I presumed she had been one of countless abandoned infants and spent many years with her orphaned peers.

I met Jiawen on an unusually warm evening in March, 1999. Although the flight was predictably excruciating, I was ecstatic. I was pulsing with adrenalin and I felt very confident, having done this the year before. I spoke Mandarin, and China was no longer a wildly foreign place. […]

Mother’s Day Flowers

by Tracy Franz

It is May 8, 2010,* the day before Mother’s Day, and I am in Takamori, Japan, with my one-year-old son’s hand in mine, carefully climbing the stone steps to the gate of my husband’s teacher’s temple.

We are here to celebrate Hanamatsuri, or the “Festival of Flowers”—otherwise known as the Buddha’s Birthday.

As we enter the garden, I see that the sliding doors encircling the main building are open to fresh countryside air. A number of families have already settled on their cushions around a statue of the baby Buddha standing beneath a flower-covered canopy.

Soon, the children will be invited to pour sweet tea brewed from the leaves of hydrangea over the likeness, bathing it as tenderly as a real newborn. In this way, the boys and girls are encouraged—briefly—to step into the parental role, an exercise in compassion and generosity. […]

Mother’s Day

by Cyma Shapiro

First flowers given to me for Mother’s Day from my (step) son…so long ago…

I remember the first Mother’s Day card I received. It was ten years ago. I’d been a new mom for two months. I was a more than timid about reading the card; nearly embarrassed about acknowledging my new-found status.

It was similar to an incident which occurred around the same time. While at a local Blockbuster, my baby called out to me in front of some acquaintances. Unaware that I’d become a new mom, they nearly paled when they saw that I was the recipient. I couldn’t face them directly, but caught their disbelief out of the corner of my eye. I was almost embarrassed for them. I wondered whether I appeared “motherly enough;” whether they’d ever seen me that way. […]

The Value of “Tuck-Ins”

by Austin Wimberly

There’s a saying in the South that goes, “If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” I was raised on this aphorism and felt it acutely around special occasions such as Christmas, Mom’s birthday, and, of course, Mother’s Day.

Growing up, it was always interesting to me that the same amount of fastidiousness wasn’t applied to Dad’s birthday or to Father’s Day. As a boy, this seemed demonstrably unfair, but as I’ve gotten older and entered the ranks of parents, I think I understand why the disparity exists. I think it has to do with our need for a protection that is both intimate and nurturing.

Now, right off the bat, I can hear the internet criticizing this opinion. “Men can be just as intimate as women,” the web might say. Or “This opinion of yours that mothers are more nurturing than fathers is sexist.” And I am sure there are millions of counter-examples to refute everything I’m going to write. […]

Moms Should Dress in Florals But My Mama Likes to Wear Black

by Anna Paravano

Moms should dress in florals
But my Mama likes to wear black
Kind-of-like Johnny Cash except
Without the guitar and hat

When pastel colors are in season
Mama flies-in like a red flash
She jokes when she should be serious and
Cries when others laugh […]

Any Day Can Be Mother’s Day

by Lori Pelikan Strobel

Lori Pelikan Strobel’s teatime

The teacups are set out over the lace tablecloth. One teacup is from Ireland, one from Germany, and one from the Czech Republic. These cups represent our heritage, as well as the ritual of having tea with mom. The teas are chosen, too – one decaf green tea, a pomegranate, and a mint medley.

The teakettle whistles like a train horn to let me know it’s time. It’s Tea Time.

Time to sit with my daughters in the evening and to chat, to watch TV, and to read. Most likely we will be doing all of these at the same time because we are mulitaskers. This teatime is something I still do with my mother, too. It has been passed from one generation to the next, and it makes me happy when we have tea. I smile knowing that this is a mother’s day. Any day can be Mother’s Day. […]

Mother’s Day

by Janice Eidus

Mine wasn’t a happy family. My angry, volatile father tyrannized us, and my mother was depressed most of the time. Yet Mother’s Day was important to us, a day in which we could honor my mother without sarcasm or cruelty, both of which permeated our household. Out of construction paper, I made her homemade cards, and with my allowance money, bought her inexpensive perfume or face lotion.

I didn’t think much about the gifts. I just went to the local pharmacy and pulled them off the shelves. My mother was always very grateful, although I felt detached from her at the moment of gift giving: yes, she was my mother; yes, I loved her; but no – I couldn’t fully give myself over to celebrating her. Things were just too grim in our home. […]

Mom’s Day

by Maggie Lamond Simone

Yes, my friends, it’s that time of year again, time for the annual Mother’s Day Column. It changes every year; as I change as a mother, as my relationship with own mother grows with age, as I watch my friends with their children. This year, however, as I sat at the computer typing out thoughts, I was struggling a bit, and I finally realized why. My kids.

“Ow! Mom!’ the girl screamed, “he hit me!”

“I did not!” the boy cried. “I was just swinging my hand and she walked into it!”

“I did not!” the girl cried. “He hit me!” […]

Mother’s Day Month – Essay #1 – The Term “Real Mother” Confuses Us

John M. Simmons

Mothers’ Day has always been a tough one at our house. My wife, Amy, came from a home where she was abused by her father and her mother did nothing to stop it, as long as he provided the meal-ticket.

At fifteen, Amy went into foster care where she was used to raise younger foster children while the parents partied. My daughters suffered unimaginable abuse at the hand of their birth-mother in Russia. My youngest son, Denney, also from that country, was betrayed by his birth parents, too.

Sarah was five when she joined our family. She was plenty old enough to know what was going on and to play a part in life-altering decisions. She’s now fourteen. Recently Sarah came to me and said: “I miss Mama Oksana.” (That’s the name we have always used for the birth-mother of our daughters). “I used to hate her. Is that okay?” Tears filled my eyes as I wrapped my arms around her and told her it was not only okay, but good. Then I told her I loved her and that I was sorry it was so hard. […]