Mother’s Day: A Decade of Remembrances

Some holidays are accompanied with fanfare – of the fireworks sort. Others are somber events, celebrated with flags and flowers on gravestones. There are also religious holidays – better known as holy days – which generally entail going to church, and some holidays celebrate history with parades and bands. Mother’s Day falls into none of those categories. It’s a “quiet” holiday – meant just for the family.

I have no memories of Mother’s Day as a child. In fact, I was eighteen years old before I became aware that there was a Sunday in May called “Mother’s Day.” That’s because the community in which I grew up valued holy days far more than holidays. Another story all together.

It wasn’t until I reached the age of forty-five that I celebrated my own very first Mother’s Day with my two-month-old twins (and my husband) on a deliciously warm May 8th. A bouquet of sensations is the way I remember the occasion – joy, peace, equanimity, pride (the good kind!). The memory will never fade away even if the photos from that day somehow get lost.

Before the children were old enough to understand what Mother’s Day was all about, they were excited to go out to the garden with their dad, select a daffodil from the garden and bring it to me. It was the perfect Mother’s Day present. By the time they reached the age of four, they seemed to get the gist of what the day was about – giving Mom a day off. I believe it was my husband who suggested that they “surprise” mom with breakfast in bed, and I was all for it.

It was a ritual, as choreographed as a religious ceremony. When I woke up – and I was an early riser, so the day was young – I knew that it was my obligation to remain in bed until my children arrived with my Mother’s Day breakfast on a tray. Not surprisingly, as I awaited the surprise meal, I spent the time imagining what kind of catastrophes might befall the kitchen crew – husband and two children. Could their father manage two tiny ones hovering over a toaster and an electric kettle?

And then the clink of plates bumping into glasses, the pitter patter of feet and muffled whispers let me know that my “surprise” breakfast was on its way up the sixteen steps from the front hall to the bedroom. Through the doorway they came, each holding one side of the wooden tray. I held my breath as they came around the foot of the bed and landed the tray (ok, with the help of dad) on my lap. Carefully arranged were toast with strawberry jam spread thickly on top, English Breakfast tea, a cream pitcher with milk, a cloth napkin and a teaspoon. “Happy Mother’s Day,” they said with pride.

That was the first of what would be close to a decade of Mother’s Day breakfasts in bed, except for a few missed Sundays by my daughter who had to sing in the church choir. With each progressive year, while the ritual remained the same, the production grew more and more elaborate.

The practice might never have ended were it not for the fact that by the time my children were heading into their teenage years, they were no longer early risers. The last Mother’s Day breakfast in bed was an ordeal – at least for a person who rises with the sun and wants to get on with the day. Abiding by the dictate that I not leave my bed until I had been served my breakfast, I asked my husband to bring me Sunday New York Times which I devoured from cover to cover. By ten o’clock, I had yet to get out of my night clothes, was still unshowered and in a state of famish. Never again, I was thinking as the door opened and in came my children with my breakfast. Admittedly, it was a feast – a cheese, mushroom, broccolini omelet (my favorite), some silver dollar pancakes (with butter but no maple syrup), the essential pot of tea with milk on the side and an array of cut flowers. All was forgiven.

I love family traditions, and while our Mother’s Day breakfast in bed custom did come to its own natural end, I hope the memories of that annual event will inspire my children to carry it on with their own children some day in the future.

Happy Mother’s Day!