Happy Mother’s Day to the lovely women in my family and to my much-loved friends.
I hope all the love and happiness you deserve comes your way. Especially today.
An old friend sent me this picture of my parents last week. It took my breath away. Why? My mother’s smile. I realized I hadn’t seen her that happy since my father died.
Because it’s Mother’s Day, I thought I’d share some of my mother’s advice:
“Put your husband first because your children grow up and leave you.” She firmly believed, like Dr. Laura, that you should be your husband’s girlfriend. My father was always the most important person in her world.
“A woman needs her own money.” This one had a lot to do with her love of shopping. Her stamina in a shopping mall was positively Olympian. I never had my “own” money until I started selling books, but when I opened my first checking account I realized Mom was right.
“Tell your husband what you must, but don’t tell him everything.” I’d heard this one many times, but it was especially appropriate twenty years ago when I was obsessing over buying a fancy sewing machine. I’d brought my mother along–she never refused an outing and had been promised lunch afterwards–and, exasperated with my dithering, pointed out that my husband didn’t need to know exactly what the machine cost. She also declared it was about time I did something for myself. I bought the machine and we went to lunch.
“Put that baby to bed and have the evening with your husband.” This was advice she gave when her adored first grandchild was a toddler. She believed that children should go to bed early and their parents should have time together. Marriage always came first.
Last year’s Mother’s Day was, well, miserable. Banjo Man and I knew I had cancer, but we didn’t know how bad it was and didn’t want to tell my mother or the kids until we had a biopsy and a definitive plan to deal with it. I was in pain. The rain pelted down. Denny’s, where we’d gone for breakfast, was packed with hungry people. My mother wasn’t in the best frame of mind either. I’ll admit it was hard to pretend to be cheerful that morning. We had plans to go out for dinner with Barb and Rod later, but we cancelled. Enough was enough and we knew we couldn’t pretend that everything was fine much longer.
And it has been quite a year.
But today? The sun is shining, but the temperature is only 43 degrees. Another “Six Feet Sunday” with Barb and Rod is not in the cards this afternoon. I’m going to bind that Corona quilt and start hand stitching while watching tv tonight.
I wish you all a peaceful day and send my love.