My kids and I made a decision one Mother’s Day when we waited two hours for an outside table at a brunch spot, only to get shitty service and mediocre food, that we would no longer need to celebrate Mother’s Day, on Mother’s Day. What was comical about this particular meal was how blatantly the server lied about the egg sandwich. When my daughter ordered her meal minus the bacon, explaining her vegetarianism (which I then told her needed no justifying to anyone), the sandwich was served with bacon regardless. When she pointed this out, the server apologized and said they would remake the sandwich. Five minutes later the sandwich came back, and on inspection, we saw they had only pulled the bacon off and gave her back the same sandwich (evidentiary by the small snippet of bacon clinging to a piece of soggy lettuce.) I looked the server right in the eye and said, “This sandwich was remade?” And the son of a bitch lied right to my face. He looked deep in my eyes and said “Yes.” But what I saw was Please don’t make me go back and redo this because my manager is a dick and he may fire me and I have three kids at home and a mother who needs my paycheck. So I let it go. “Thank you,” I said to him flatly. “Can you eat it?” I said to my daughter, when he walked away. “Yeah it’s fine,” she said.
In that moment, I gained super kudos with my kids (and let’s face it - middle aged people just want young people to tell them they are okay.) “Mom, I’m impressed. You didn’t go nuts on him or demand to see the manager.”
“Yeah,” I said, poking at my burnt cottage fries. “I would have liked to, but his stress was too deep.”
Sure, sometimes it is justified to complain and get what you are paying for, especially now when a sandwich is $16, if you are nice about it, but we all knew a) this was an irreparable situation; and b) we would no longer subject ourselves to Mother’s Day. Since then, I receive a sweet nod during the week with some kind of beauty product they pooled their resources to buy or chocolate they would ask me to share with them eventually, and that is more than enough. I know not only am I Mother of the Year in my mind, but I love myself radically today. That is the best gift I can give my daughters. My own sense of self-esteem.
Do I miss the days of my little girls running into the bedroom with poorly made French Toast and card made on construction paper of dancing mommies with legs coming out of their triangular necks? Sure, but here is the truth. They would do that for me now if I asked. Except, with it would come, can I have $20 and did you fill out the form on line for my graduation gown? I welcome those tasks as a mom but I don’t necessarily need to do them on Mother’s Day.
We have to mother ourselves ultimately. If we can’t be in the quiet and still of ourselves then we have some re-parenting to do. Ultimately the best gift for anyone, mother or not, is to be in radical love with yourself. At the end of the day, you have to seriously love love love yourself. I don’t care how many people surround you, and love you, and fill your time. Look for that moment, that quiet moment alone and see how your mind talks to you. Is it kind? Does it say kind words?
Last night I was home by myself, and I wasn’t sure at first what to do. I had a crazy busy week right up until late on Friday at a track meet, and Saturday I had a three hour charity brunch for AA. So I hadn’t really unwound at all. I know that in the moments of indecision of how the evening alone will play out is when I am in the least kindness and consideration of myself. I think everything I am doing is “wrong” or the “wrong choice.” My vicious judging self will get loud. That voice will have me thinking I need to get dressed and out the door to some kind of power yoga class. Be more. Do more. Prove more. So instead, in a moment of radical self love, I took a thirty minute nap that was so glorious, I woke myself up snoring. Then I knew I was in chill mode and didn’t owe anything to anyone. My voice got a hold of me for thirty minutes and found me at my lap top doing some banal tasks, but then I pulled myself away and plopped on the couch with veggie chips to rent a movie. Looking for the perfect artsy movie I could feel I spent my precious time on was also part of my judging mind so I went for a mindless selection and rented Book Club with Jane Fonda and that whole funny gang of older ladies.
A quarter of the way through, I realized I had seen it before… and I had to be okay with the imperfection of that. Shockingly I enjoyed the movie twice. Then when that movie was done it was only 8PM, so I thought, can I rent two movies in one night? How radical?? If I was with my daughters or friends or a partner, we would giggle and it would be deliciously devilish to rent two movies in one night and just freaking relax. But for me alone, it felt like I had just gone down the path to no return, and I would be a sloth forever.
See how damaging my non-radical self love voice can be?
So I watched a second movie Megan, which was really fun, and I had the best sleep all the way through the night than I have had in ages. I decided to give myself a break, and honestly, for anyone who is a mother or a caretaker or a parent at all, we hardly give ourselves breaks. I have to remember I am a rock star when I do even basic functions for my almost college kid. Like teach her how to order an Uber, and explain a prom boutonniere. And the other day I was teaching how it doesn’t matter if you apply for jobs on line, you still have to go in and introduce yourself to the manager and lobby face to face for the job. Old school charm. As a mother, I truly want to be able to do the supportive stuff without thinking I am a piece of crap inside.
I am grateful that February 13th is now Self-Love Day. But why only one day? Self-Love should not be equated with National Pie Day or National Pet Awareness Day? I am so over the mismanagement of national anythings. The only days I truly care about is the abolition of slavery, the sequence of days concentration camps were liberated, when queer people could legally marry, and the day we held onto abortion still being legal in California (thank you Jesus.) I could think of many more days that have more validity than Mother’s Day.
Instead of running to the store and getting cards and flowers, or eating some over priced over salted meal on Mother’s Day, how about just remembering we all came from a mother. We all came into this earth wanting inherently to be loved. Love on someone today even if it is a kind word to a cashier or a less biting comment to your partner or your own mother. If you don’t talk to your mother, or she has passed, or the mother of your children is gone, love on another person who has a mother. They may someday become a mother and how they see the world will be reflected on how they raise their children.
I still say that even though I initially got sober and faced sexual abuse so I could be a better mother, it was really for me. For the mother I needed to be to me inside. That little girl who didn’t know she was worthy of being mothered.
Love on yourself today. Watch two movies. Nap. Do nothing. Hug a stranger. Hug a tree. Make imperfect baked goods. Find no fault in yourself or anyone. Try harder to do what you love most.
Say “I love you” in the mirror.
Happy Mother’s Day.