(Sweeter than a Dyson.)
You are looking at one of the lovely Mother’s Day gifts I was presented with yesterday by my adorable daughter.
As you can tell, it can’t be used to suck up strewn Cheerios from hardwood or carpeted floors, nor can it separate dust by cyclonic action and spin it out of the airstream with the simple press of a button.
Also, it doesn’t rhyme with Dyson.
Regardless, I love my card, especially the handwritten note scribbled in bright pink crayon inside.
It will forever help me remember Mother’s Day 2012.
The holiday has come and gone yet again.
Hopefully, you enjoyed a gift from the heart from your children. Perhaps, your Mother’s Day present was a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, a stack of chocolate chip pancakes delivered to you in bed, an extra hour of sleep, or a card similar to mine.
Do you even recall what you received yesterday, or is it easier to rattle off all the things you didn’t get?
If you were at pick-up at my daughter’s school today, you’d probably check the latter category.
Guilty as charged, as witnessed by the second sentence of this post.
While it may have been done tongue-in-cheek, the majority of moms I chatted with today focused more on the Mother’s Day gifts that coulda, woulda, shoulda rather than the ones dida.
Many smiled as they sardonically referenced the diamond tennis bracelets that weren’t hanging from their wrists, the shoulders that hadn’t been professionally massaged and the dining rooms tables that weren’t decorated with lavish Mother’s Day floral arrangements.
At dinner tonight, I thought about what had transpired during this afternoon’s mini meeting of mothering minds. As moms we typically give unconditionally, but then an occasion like Mother’s Day rolls around and we suddenly become as entitled as our youngest, most petulant offspring.
Think about it; when was the last time you gathered with a group of moms and didn’t share a single complaint?
In some circles this type of sharing is called venting.
Ah. Yes. Venting.
It’s one thing I’ve mastered as a mom.
Not exactly something to be proud of.
In fact, after this afternoon’s Mother’s Day-themed session I am more ashamed than ever.
So I didn’t get a Dyson (again) for birthing and raising another human being.
I did get a card… and plenty of hugs.
But what about the moms who woke up on Sunday to nothing? The moms, who don’t have spouses, partners or friends that are thoughtful enough to nudge the kids towards the construction paper and crayon box? Or, the moms whose children has been tragically ripped away from them? Or, the moms whose lives are so wrought with turmoil that the mere act of surviving another day is a gift in and of itself?
How do your Mother’s Day gifts look now?