On this warm, sunny day in May, Hallmark says we should buy our moms things. Flowers, candy, jewelry, an elliptical cross-trainer...whatever the woman who birthed and/or raised you might desire, as a national remuneration for the sacrifices she made to defend you against the lions of society until you reached adulthood. While it's widely known that I think this holiday is bullshit, I sure do love my momma, and if it makes her feel good to have a day, then the day is hers. I have to admit, though, that there is something good about a Hallmark holiday when I help huge Hell's Angel-types tenderly picking out chocolates for their mothers.
At the same time, there's this: the real history of Mother's Day, which puts the whole Hallmark mythos to a shameful rest. The historical truth gives Mother's Day no more significance on the schedule of national holidays than Secretary's Day, or the less popular National Nude Day (July 14, in case you were wondering).
But for those who choose to ignore these hard facts, should we really have to be reminded to honor and cherish our mothers on one specific day? We should honor them every day of our waking lives. I believe that wholeheartedly, especially after having read a few chapters of Tina Cassidy's comprehensive history of how we are born, entitled, Birth. Squeezing out a baby is no picnic. In fact, human births are among the most painful and dangerous in the animal kingdom. Not only that, but as Cassidy points out, women have been almost helpless in birth for centuries. Midwives and doctors have done some crazy things to preserve their respective reputations as deliverers, all of which have made the whole process more painful and more difficult. Compound that with the 48 hours of labor my mother endured to have me, and you can imagine the homage I pay to that woman.
As an interesting aside, check out 'Postcards from Yo Momma', a little peek into the world of mother-child electronic correspondence.
And then there are the women who have popped out, oh say, seventeen children. Like this woman and her family, featured on the Today Show last week. How this woman is having an eighteenth child is beyond my understanding. Should one's uterus have given up and fallen out by maybe the 10th? If children really are a blessing, then this woman is three-quarters of the way to saint status. And what of women who cannot or choose not to bear children? Are they being punished for sins of the past? I have nothing but admiration for women who choose to be surrogates, giving women babies who wouldn't otherwise have the chance to be moms.
I'd like to say that if I had the ways and means, I would be a surrogate in a heartbeat.
So Mother's Day...My mother is with neither of her children today. She's with her own mother and her goddaughter, at the latter's first communion hundreds of miles away from her doting, flesh-and-blood daughter. I should be there with them, but my hip and happenin' NYC lifestyle prohibits leaving the island to go too far these days. Don't I feel like a lackluster daughter? Go ahead, judge me for the ungrateful child that I appear to be. But not too fast, because I will be flooding RM's mother with Mother's Day cheer. The woman who brought my sweetheart into this world is worthy of just as much as my own mother on this Mother's Day.
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