MOTHER’S DAY PSYCHOSIS


You can’t escape from Mother’s Day. Lord knows I’ve tried. I was most successful at escaping only when I lived in an RV and could easily leave town. Now I’m surrounded by newspaper ads, radio and TV, even email, that attempt to blackmail me into spending money on mother – whether or not I have one to honor. Anyone who doesn’t go along with this buy-more-buy-now agenda is not only seen as heartless, but also un-American.

I have a well-deserved reputation in my family for being neurotic. In and around Mother’s Day I tend toward the psychotic. I’m kinda like a hand grenade where someone has pulled the pin – a trifle unstable I fear.

I start out pretty reasonably I think. I’m not particularly materialistic so I neither want nor need more stuff. I’m allergic to chocolate and don’t have much of a sweet tooth, so candy is out. I’m not fond of crowds so Mother’s Day brunch doesn’t make much sense to me. That leaves flowers, cards, and phone calls. In the past I’ve been thrilled with a bunch of lilacs from the yard, a thoughtful card, and/or a phone call. Bottom line all I want is a brief acknowledgment from each of my four children on or about Mother’s Day.

I’d prefer it if they thought of it themselves without my having to remind them. But if it doesn’t happen I can become unglued. Irrational, unreasonable, actively miserable. Somehow there’s hell to pay and I have no control over any of it. Self-pity run riot rules the day. I make myself sick. I’m definitely toxic, possibly radioactive. Mostly I hate myself for being so petty-minded and hypocritical.

I think about my former mother-in-law who once told me, “When your children are little they step on your toes; when they’re grown they step on your heart.” I was young and appalled when she said that. Now that I’m older I have some understanding of her feelings. I think about my own mother whom I seldom wrote to. And I don’t remember sending her a Mother’s Day card either, but Hallmark had not yet turned the event into today’s orgy of spending, sentimentality, and one-upmanship.

When I’m smart I try to be proactive. And my children prefer a direct request rather than my often baroque suggestions. So, this year I asked my daughter to take me on a field trip some weekday; I want to ride the new airporter train and need help to manage the excursion. I’ve also asked Michael (middle son)to come over and play Scrabble with me on Sunday. Hopefully, those things will keep me out of mischief on this Mother’s Day.

If not, I recently overheard a superior strategy to obtain acknowledgment. Cookie, mother of many children, simply phones them up, and if she's out of town, she calls them collect. I wish I'd thought of that years ago when I was traveling! It might have saved the family a lot of grief.