MOTHERS’ DAY

An edited version, of the first article I sold to the Los Angeles Times, it was published on May 12, 1985, my son’s 36^th birthday..

 

     I am a Jewish Mother who does not take Mothers’ Day lightly’ Oh, I can do without the ribbons, roses and sweets.  For me, the day is a tribute to my mother, a celebration of my own motherhood and an acknowledgement of my daughter, the mom.  A kaleidoscope of memories brightens the occasion, blending laughter and tears into bittersweet recall.  Today, I am a child again searching for the right words to express the love and gratitude I feel.

     But I am also an adult who remembers the sweet smell of an infant daughter and the dazzling excitement of child number one, our son. Once again I search for words of gratitude and love. On Mothers’ Day, more than at any other time, my inner child and my adult reality are in harmony.

     Mother is forever!  My mother died many years ago in 1957. Hardly a day goes by without a thought of her, a remembered conversation, a confidential chat, a shared chore.  She is never far from me.  Mother’s years of surveillance gave birth to a patience that was never ending.  While we children acted out our stages of impatience, short tempers and ugliness, Mother patiently awaited the fulfillment of her expectations.  Hopes stained by disappointments, health blemished by illness, plenty diminished by Depression’s deprivations never discouraged, disheartened or defeated her.

     She understood the special-ness of children.  To her, no child was ugly, dirty or unmanageable.  Tears had to be dried carefully, tenderly; she understood that the sun was waiting to shine through.  Her joy was complete when she coaxed a smile from an unhappy child.

     Mother was extraordinarily flexible about certain things and adamantly stubborn about others.  Truth was an absolute.  Truth forgave our misdemeanors; lies were always discovered and severely punished.  “Silent treatment” was her weapon of choice.  The pain I suffered when communication halted, was intense.  Mother’s flexibility allowed us to learn and enabled her to change her mind.  I learned early that she was vulnerable to the word “fair”.  Her advice and wisdom were usually on target; she always assumed she was correct, she usually was!

     As I look ahead and remember Mother, I also recall my mothering.  The day becomes, for me, a celebration of the tough, indestructible, infinite love I share with my children.  I hope that some of the patience, understanding and flexibility flowed from my Mother through me to them.

     I disagree with the cynics who denigrate Mothers’ Day.  It is a celebration.  I am a proud mother who has experienced disappointment, discouragement and deprivation. But there always is hope that health, dreams, patience and understanding will prevail and prevent an erosion of love; that calls for a celebration!

     Hugs and kisses we exchange are the receipts for that love.  The cards, gifts and endearing words are, perhaps, the thank-you notes.  Every mother should have a time when she feels special.  We contribute richly to our offspring, responding from our individualized qualities to theirs.  Some of us specialize in cookies, others in athletics, music, storytelling or math.  All of us have sidelines in soothing scraped knees, healing hurt feelings, listening to lovelorn stories.  We major in granting permission or with holding it, raising objections and demanding obedience.  For some of us there is another legacy.  Remember I said I was a Jewish Mother.

     The adjective and noun, part of the American vernacular, join to describe all the mothering qualities I have discussed and more.  A Jewish mother worries more, protects more, aspires (pushes) more, expects more and in her own mind is more culpable.  “Don’t be a Jewish Mother!” means stop worrying, stop pushing, stop coddling, slow down.  Jewish mothers wear guilt like a second skin, blaming themselves for the child’s shortcomings and at the same time shout: “How could you do this to me?”   Jewish mothers assume an awesome responsibility for the totality of their children’s deeds and misdeeds.  One would think there are no other influences upon a child.  That’s nonsense!

     Not all Jewish mothers fit the stereotype.  Today’s woman no longer depends on her mothering and culinary skills for status and identity.  Jewish mothers and their counterparts understand today that nurturing, loving and letting go is what mothering is all about.  In the final analyses, we open doors to allow the child’s aspirations, fulfillment and efforts to go through.  No, I do not take Mothers’ Day lightly.  I delight to remember my mother, I relish the opportunity to celebrate the love I share with my kids and rejoice in the continuity, privileges and rewards of motherhood.

Happy Mothers’ Day!