I grew up with five siblings. Three older brothers and two sisters, one older and one younger. Mother’s Days were big, boisterous affairs, with kids either chipping in together to get Mom something expensive and fabulous, or competing with each other to see who come up with the most impressive and tear-inducing offering.
Mom was adamant about Mother’s Day. It was The One you didn’t miss. Ever. You could forget the Christmas gift altogether (in the massive three-family gift exchange, who would know?) with nary a raised eyebrow, and even her birthday was excusable with a reasonable explanation (“I was out of the country saving refugee orphans” or “My 20-year-old cat, Appletini, died. An hour ago”). But Mother’s Day was sacred, and you blew it off at your own peril.
Kids learn what they live.
My son, Jake, grew up as an only child. He had to carry the Mom-appreciation ball single-handedly, without sibling help or contribution, every year. When he was young, if he didn’t come home from school proudly bearing a red cut-out heart declaring “I love my Mom,” or years later, was out of town and didn’t call to tell me how darn lucky he was to have me as his mother, I’d be devastated and he knew it. It was a lot of pressure on a kid to make Mom feel loved and appropriately the center of his young world. But I’d remind him that it was only one day a year, so he could just suck it up and tell me what I wanted to hear. (I also figured it would be good training for his future marriage one day on the importance of special occasions to women. You’re welcome, DIL.)
Fortunately, his Mother’s Day obligations were fairly easy to fulfill. In most cases, a card or, after he moved out, a phone call would do, and neither of us are really phone-talkers. I’ve never been a lover of long, drawn-out phone chats as a way to while away an evening, much preferring the get-on-state-your-business-get-off approach to telecommunication. Jake feels exactly the same way.
Over the past several years, his entire Mother’s Day obligation has often been handled with a two-minute “Hi Mom.” “Hi Jake!” “I just called to say Happy Mother’s Day.” “Thanks, sweetie! How are you?” “I’m doing good. How are you?” “Dad and I are great. He’s fishing this weekend, and I’m writing. We miss you.” “I miss you guys too. Happy Mother’s Day. See you soon.” “Thanks for calling. Love you!” “Love you too, Mom.” Boom. Happy Mom.
But there have been actual gifts and memorable moments over the years.
The earliest gift of his choice was a pink plastic, beaded bracelet that he spent his entire allowance on to win at the Chuck E. Cheese’s kids’ casino chip toss game. “I know you like jewelry, Mom,” he declared as he proudly put it on my wrist. I wore that bracelet every day for two years. (He checked every morning.) I still have it today.
In his third-grade Mother’s Day pageant, the children made paper placemats for their mothers that recorded her favorite color, song, activity, and expression. Each child stood up on the stage to read their gifts to the entire maternal congregation, with sweet little “My mom’s favorite color is blue and she calls me her ‘pookey bear.'” “My mother’s favorite activity is making cookies for me and her favorite expression is ‘Love you to the moon and back.'” Jake stood up and grinned, “My mom’s favorite color is pink, she likes to drink red wine, and her favorite expression is ‘Get over it.'” That’s my boy.
The next few years brought various artwork pieces and handmade trinkets from school, and often, carefully chosen shiny jewelry baubles that he was sure I’d like. I wore a lot of drugstore jewelry those days, and I loved it all.
In his late teenage years, Jake’s grandmother passed away. He adored her and got a tattoo on his forearm honoring her. I jokingly remarked one day that I found it interesting that the first woman’s name he had inked onto his body wasn’t mine, and what was up with that?? He replied, dryly, “Well, you’re not dead.” Okay, tough to compete with that one.
But the next year, on Mother’s Day, I got up and checked my email, and there was a message from Jake that said “Happy Mother’s Day!” with an attached photo. I opened it to find a large picture of his upper bicep, emblazoned with a small red rose and banner that read “Mom.” Made me positively teary-eyed. You’ve got to love a kid that permanently defaces his body for you.
The following year, Jake did the “real” move-out (not the kind where you know they’re coming back the minute they’re hungry, cold, or broke), and he joined the military. As I was struggling to adjust to his only-an-hour-away-but-still-gone absence, he got orders to deploy to Iraq for a year. I was proud and heartbroken at the same time.
That Mother’s Day, I was feeling blue and missing my boy, big time. As I was leaving work, I saw a National Guard soldier, in uniform and about Jake’s age, on the sidewalk. I told him that my son was in Iraq and I was missing him on this Mother’s Day. Then I asked him if I could give him a hug for Jake. He looked a bit startled, then smiled and replied, “Of course, ma’am.” He leaned over and we shared a long, wonderful hug. I cried all the way home.
Still one of the best presents I’ve ever received.
Today, Jake is an amazing young man with a family of his own (my two grandbabies!) and a beautiful wife that, from this day forward, will undoubtedly pick out his Mother’s Day cards, make sure he signs and mails them, and then remind him to call his mom on Mother’s Day.
I can live with that.
Oh my gosh that made me teary. Your son sounds like an amazing young man.
The tatoo is is an awesome tribute.
My husband got one of my name last year. I was surprised.
A beautiful, funny, heartfelt post! How I wish I had your writing talent-my sons and I share the same kind of relationship that you do with Jake so I might just print your comments out, send it to them and say “ditto, boys”!
Thanks!
Your story (especially the part about hugging the young man in uniform) made me tear up :-)
I remember making those crazy gifts in school and my mother dutifully wearing them, including earrings made out of rice spraypainted gold. Yeah. And you are one lucky mama..
I like the detail about your habits that your son observed including saying, “Get over it.” Happy upcoming Mother’s Day!
Oh, the love of a son. There is nothing that makes me all gooey inside than an “I love you” from my 22 year old.
Total tear jerker. My kids are 9 and 6 now. I want to give them a hug for your Jake (even though I know he’s home now).
Beautiful post, Vikki.
Oh my gosh you totally made me tear up with the story of the national guardsman. My boys are still small, but their dad is training them well. The older boy even tried, on occasion, to hold the door for his mommy. He’s three, so it doesn’t always work out well for me.
So glad I bumped into you – virtually anyway!
I’m usually LMAO by the end of anything you write. Today I had tears & a smile! As moms we only want the love & respect we deserve but sometimes you realize you have, along the way of motherhood, given your children the same!
Oh my gosh – I totally teared up…so sweet of that National Guardsman!
I remember the year my son was in Afghanistan he called me and about half-way through the call was dropped, I was devastated but to hear his voice for a few minutes and to know in that moment he was safe was probably the best present I have ever gotten!
I love your son. And you. That is all.
Dang it, Vikki, you made my eyes wet!!
I have 2 boys, well hardly boys now at 28 and 32. I think I’ll send this to them! It’s a touching story.
This made me all teary..
I love that you hugged a stand-in soldier and that he understood!
I would be a mess if I had one in Iraq, quite a sacrifice for son and family.
Very sentimental! Your Mother is right and you did a great job, your son knows it is one day celebrating being a Mom!
Vikki, I rarely read Mother’s day posts because I find them all the same, but yours literally left me teary-eyed!!! Love your posts and don’t know why I don’t visit more often!!
Great story, Vikki! I loved that young soldier let you hug him!
So wonderfully touching! It made me tear up a little. I never had any sons and sometimes wonder what it would have been like. I have 3 daughters, 2 of which have children of their own now. For mother’s day these past few years they and my 1 granddaughter take me out for brunch on Mother’s Day and I think it’s my favorite present over all these years. Time with my fellow mothers (and 2 mothers to be, no doubt) to discuss all the trials, tribulations, and wonderful things that being a mother can bring. Happy Mother’s Day!
I am the mom of an only child, a son also. My husband and I just were talking about this last night that more than likely I won’t get a phone call, a card, a visit, or a gift from him. He is just not in that place right now. As much as I would like even a text saying Happy Mother’s Day, I am content knowing that he does love me and appreciates me (most of the time). Hopefully when he gets married his wife will be good at holidays at least :-)
Vicki, you family sounds so full of love! You are all lucky to have each other!
Funny and sweet and a perfect Mother’s Day post. Loved it.
Vikki, I loved this post, especially the “Get over it!” part–I can sooooo relate to the outright honesty of children in very public places! I included your post in my Mother’s Day edition of Joyful Reads for the Weekend–the link is here if you’d like to take a look:
http://www.joyfullygreen.com/2014/05/joyful-reads-for-the-weekend-vol-25-mothers-day-edition.html. Glad to have discovered your blog and I look forward to reading more from you!
P.S. What’s going on with Facebook anyway? Keeps getting worse and worse with the new policies and constant money-grubbing!
What an touching post…I love it. Thanks for sharing!!
So beautiful. I don’t push my Kiddies of much more than an acknowledgment of the day either but man you got me at the end there. I couldn’t imagine that feeling but I know that all soldiers understand and I wouldn’t have expected anything less from that young man. My son is headed to college and I am dreading every bit of it but I know that he will always be my baby. Thanks so much for sharing such a touching story.
Where’d the onions come from!?! Such a sweet tribute to a wonderful son raised by an amazing mom! Love it!! Thanks for sharing it at #TuesdayTen!
What a great son! I am now that daughter in law who buys the cards and reminds my hubby to be extra once to his mom on Mother’s Day. Glad to know that’s o.k. :-) Thanks for linking up with #TuesdayTen!
I grew up in a big family, too, and it was easier to share the burden of Mother’s Day! Now my two girls are in charge, and so far they’re doing a pretty good job. :)
Wow holy tears, Vikki. Sheesh. Beautiful post though – sounds like you raised one heck of an awesome boy. My son is not yet five, but I’m already instilling the import of Mother’s Day on him. This year, he made me a pipe-cleaner bracelet with his name spelled out in beads. Backwards. So, it’s perfect.