How many of us want to hide under the covers until this Hallmark holiday is over? I have no children of my own and my mother and mother-in-law are dead, yet people automatically wish me a happy Mother’s Day. I got tired of correcting them long ago.
This morning at church, a friend started to wish a parishioner Happy Mothers Day, then stopped herself. “I’m sorry. You don’t have kids,” she said. I was aghast. Once you’ve started, you don’t take it back that way, like sorry, you don’t qualify.
Anyway, with the music director out sick, I led the choirs and played the piano through three Masses. Three times I stood up as Father Brian went through his Mother’s Day spiel. Actually, it wasn’t bad. He included not only birth mothers but foster mothers, caregivers, and any woman who nurtures somebody. Moms were supposed to bow their heads for a blessing. The first Mass I refused to lower my head, but this morning, after particularly difficult night caring for the pups and the husband and being reminded that I have had three stepchildren for 23 years, I bowed. I accepted the blessings and prayers. I need them.
It’s about 2:00 our time, and I haven’t heard a word from the stepchildren, not even an e-card. But the puppies love me.
I hate this holiday. After Mass, I went to McDonald’s, thinking I might get a peaceful lunch there, missing all the Mom’s Day brunch crowd. Wrong. There were dozens of little kids with their mothers and balloons and gifts and all that nonsense. Me, I got hit on by a crazy man from our church who decided to sit with me when all I wanted to do was read my magazine and enjoy my sandwich.
Ten more hours to midnight PDT. Then we’ll be safe for another year.