Tag Archive for: Mother’s day gifts

What My Mother’s Day Will Be Like

What My Mother’s
Day Will Be Like by Debra H. Goldstein

With Mother’s Day
only a few days away, I started thinking about what the day will be like for
me.
Usually, there are
flowers and cards from my husband and from two children and one grandchild. All
four children will send cards; the grandchildren are hit and miss in that
department. The four children will probably go in on a gift together, unless, for some reason, the
girls are mad at the boys and they decide to each send something from their
respective families (in the past the tizzy occurred the year after the boys
forgot to pay up or when one, who was responsible for ordering the gift, left it until
last minute and instead simply sent a Venmo message with money from all….not the
emotional gift the girls envisioned).
In the past,
there were telephone or facetime calls from each of the grandchildren with
cameo appearances by their parents. This year, that might be replaced with a
zoom meeting with all the families represented. That’s how we’ve been
celebrating birthdays, Passover, and just getting together for the past month.
All will warm my
heart, but they will be lacking one thing. My mother. Before I was a mother or
a grandmother, I was a daughter. My mother taught me how to be a mother and a grandmother
by example. She was loving, kind, wickedly funny, and somewhat opinionated, but
she doted on her children and grandchildren. Her greatest joy was the time she
spent with us. She’s been gone a little more than five years, but I still want
to pick up the telephone can call her when something good happens or when I
need a bit of cheering up. I miss having her as a sounding board. Most of all,
I miss the joy of her sharing in the life cycle events of our family.
So, this Mother’s
Day, I will joyfully celebrate with my children and grandchildren, but a part
of my heart will be missing my mother.

The Facebook Post is BS – I Want a Mother’s Day Gift!

The
Facebook Post is BS – I Want a Mother’s Day Gift! by Debra H. Goldstein
Dear Mom,
On Facebook this week, the unknown
writer cut and paste post tied to Mother’s Day is:
Every year my
children ask me the same question. After thinking about it, I decided I’d give
them my real answer:

What do I want for Mother’s Day? I want you. I want you to keep coming around,
I want you to ask me questions, ask my advice, tell me your problems, ask for
my opinion, ask for my help. I want you to come over and rant about your
problems, rant about life, whatever. Tell me about your job, your worries. I
want you to continue sharing your life with me. Come over and laugh with me, or
laugh at me. I don’t care. Hearing you laugh is music to me.

I spent the
better part of my life raising you the best way I knew how. Now, give me time
to sit back and admire my work.

Raid my
refrigerator, help yourself, I really don’t mind. In fact, I wouldn’t want it
any other way. I want you to spend your money making a better life for you and
your family. I have the things I need. I want to see you happy and healthy. When
you ask me what I want for Mother’s Day, I say “nothing” because you’ve already
been giving me my gift all year. I want you.
I think the posters have it wrong. I
want a gift. I’d like the opportunity to spend another day with you. A day when
we talk for more than a few moments. A day when I ask you about you instead of
ranting about my life or getting annoyed because I’d rather be doing something
for work or with my family rather than making my daily telephone call to you. A
day when we go to lunch or take a drive or laugh at a joke.
Thank goodness you were with us for
Jen’s wedding, but I’m so sorry you missed Beth’s. It was special, too. You’d
be thrilled at how your grandchildren and great-grandchildren are doing and
you’d be patiently listening, and silently praying, over the antics of your
playboy grandson.
So, I want a real gift this Mother’s
Day. Memories aren’t the same.

                                                                    Love,
   
                                         Debbie