I overheard the following conversation last week between a husband and wife:

She:  So, what are you getting me for Mother’s Day?
He:  Nothing.  You’re not my mother.

Makes you think, doesn’t it?  If you happen to be a husband and father of children under the age of uh…. 30, the weight of Mother’s Day falls on your shoulders.  And most husbands I know are scared s–tless more concerned about making their wives happy than their own mothers on this day.  It seems a little off.

Somewhere along the way, Mother’s Day went from celebrating our own mothers to celebrating everyone who is, was, or might ever be a mother.  That, my friends, is quite a responsibility.  And it puts Mother’s Day right up there with New Year’s Eve as a holiday fraught with expectations that often fall short.

What would you say to grass roots movement that encouraged people to celebrate onlytheir own mother on Mother’s Day?   Husbands would not be expected to shower their wives with love, gifts and attention because, after all,  it isn’t Wive’s Day – it’s Mother’s Day.  I realize that by putting forth this idea, I am sentencing myself to years of macaroni art, dandelions, and quickie hugs in place of eggs benedict, tulips, and massage gift certificates — but I think I am okay with that.

I suspect that returning Mother’s Day to its purest form would make the day far less stressful and focused squarely on the original intent of the holiday.  It will remind us what it’s all about:  Kids and Moms.  I don’t need to be showered with gifts once a year but I do need to stop and remember two things.

1) When it comes to mothers, I, for one, am extremely lucky to have a great one…


… and so very privileged to be one.


 (Top: Sister Julie, Mom, Brother Justin and me; Bottom:  All of the kiddos on Mother’s Day 2009)

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