Sunday, May 11, 2014

An Attempt at Mother's Day

My family never went out of our way to recognize these holidays, or any holiday for that matter. It was a combination of being poor and our culture. It's not like we didn't appreciate our parents - we just didn't feel the need to exemplify it on a particular day. We would have our family dinner at some restaurant but for the most part it was just like any other day.

Fast forward to now and the past four years that the Wifey has actually been a mother and I still haven't learned the significance of the day. Actually, I know full well the significance of the day, I just don't know how to express it. Maybe I over think the actual execution - I could go the cheesy route and make a necklace out of elbow macaroni. Or do a finger painting of the family. That would let the Baby get involved and she would understand the fun that is Mother's Day. I thought about getting some supplies together and making paper dolls and writing a reason why we love her on each one. Not bad ideas. But then I worry that my masterful creations would find itself on the fridge and covered with the countless number of Save the Dates and announcements and just get lost in the mix.

I could just splurge and get her something good. Maybe a spa day with her best friend. She loves spa days, she loves her best friend, and she gets to get away from me. But then I have this gut feeling that she would feel guilty for spending time away from her family on Mother's Day while she is getting pampered and relaxing. And then she would be mad at how much it all cost for a spa day.

Or maybe the fact that I am not good at recognizing Mother's Day is the fact that it's the realization that I am celebrating a MOM. It's the confirmation that we are actually growing up and she's no longer the Wifey, she's no longer my hot girlfriend, but an actual mom. And I have to celebrate her mom-lyness with mom things. It's the realization that short jean skirts and boots are being replaced with mom jeans and those Skecher shape up polio shoes.

It's the understanding that I have to share my best friend with someone else. It's the sinking feeling that the twenty year olds who would stay out way too late and play in the rain and roll down grassy hills just aren't the same anymore. Sure, I noticed it when getting out of bed becomes a task and my bones creak just as much as the springs in my mattress.

Or maybe it's because I miss my own mom. And I feel guilty because I never celebrated her for everything she did for our family. Seldom a thank you for all the times she did her motherly duties without a single complaint. Like the time she made 300 croissants the morning of a third grade project about Canada that I didn't tell her about until the night before. Or the very first day I ever had a license and I thought it would be cool to do a 3 point turn for no damn reason whatsoever and ended up flooring it in reverse and destroyed some old lady's tree as she was working on her garden. As I told my mom what had just happened, I thought to myself, I am the first person ever to get and lose their license on the same day. My mom gave me the "disapproving, I am burning your soul with my eyes" look, she walked over to the woman's house and faked her bad English so much, the old lady just agreed I would only have to replant the tree.

But I've finally come to the understanding that I am not celebrating the Wifey's Mother Day in place of my mom's but I should be celebrating Mother's Day for the Baby and the family. The Baby needs to understand that there's a day every year where you can truly thank your mom without ever thanking her. The Baby needs to learn the excitement of secretly creating crappy macaroni art all in preparation for Mother's Day. Because even though I still have a hard time coming to terms that my hot girlfriend is still an actual mother, she will always be the best mother to our family, Skecher shoes or not.

No comments:

Post a Comment