Dear Mom,
There’s a problem with Mother’s Day.
It’s not when we’re little. Then it’s easy because a teacher hands you paper and macaroni and gold paint and voila! Mother’s Day from the heart and you didn’t even have to wash sticky fingers.
As we get a little older, it’s still pretty easy. We have new skills each year that we can incorporate into an entirely new celebration of Mother’s Day. We learn to express ourselves. We learn to say thank you.
Eventually, we get old enough that we learn how important mothers really are and we really, really say thank you. And I’m sorry. And if only I knew then what I know now. And you must have been a saint to put up with me then (and now).
When we get our own kids, we start to learn that you taught us how to mom and we celebrate Mother’s Day by thanking you for that too. And sending you pix of the grandkids, because you can never go wrong with that.
Some of us grow up to get our own blog and we write joyful (public) letters celebrating (publicly) the incredibleness of our own mom. The next year we try to say all the things we forgot to say the first year.
And then here we are four years of public blogging later, facing a blank screen and wondering how we can say (differently) that you’re the best mom ever and we’re so grateful for all you’ve done. Then and now.
See what I mean? There’s a problem with Mother’s Day? Because how do tell someone they’re better than best? That you wouldn’t be half the person you are without them? Without sounding like you’re repeating yourself from prior years?
Can’t be done.
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