So on Sunday I was driving up the west coast, en-route to my mother’s house for Mother’s Day. And all the way I was thinking, pondering on the whole mother’s day thing – the meaning, who invented it and dictated to us that we must celebrate this day – a day which is now so commercialize that it has lost its true meaning.
When I googled ‘ How did Mother’s Day start’, I learned that “Mother’s Day as we know it today was influenced by Ann Marie Reeves Jarvis, a young homemaker who starting in 1858, had tried to improve sanitation through what she called ‘Mothers Friendship Day’.
I was thinking about deserving mothers and obligated children. I am of the opinion that everyday is mothers’ day , once you have children. However, although I am one to practice what I preach, not to conform to what other’s dictate, I still feel a sense of obligation, simply because of how I think my mother will see it if I don’t. So I cooked, baked, and set off on the hour long trip to the north to spend the day with family – my mother, my children, sister, brother and a few friends.
Several people, on their way from church, it appeared, flogged me down for a ride. There is no bus service on a Sundays. But they just stood by the road waiting for rides, so I didn’t stop. Instead, I stopped for a young boy. He wasn’t going very far, but he was walking. We had a little chat and he thanked me ‘very much’ when he got off. So polite!
When I stopped to answer my phone – my brother wishing me Happy Mother’s Day- while I was on the phone, a woman opened my car door and got in, thinking I had stopped for her. I remember stopping in Lance Ax Epines some time aback, to fix my seat belt or something, a young lady just got in and said ‘yea, gimme a ride up so,’ No please or thank you! I waved the woman in. I didn’t mind. She got off a few blocks up the road and returned to my thoughts.
Along the way, children played in yards, a mother combed her daughter’s hair on the veranda, a mother waited to hold her daughter’s hand to cross the road, an old man washed a little toddler’s hands under the stand pipe – it would make a great picture.
I stopped for a mother and daughter. From church again. We had a very engaging discussion about this mother’s day thing. She too shared my opinion, that Mother’s Day is everyday and that children should treat mothers as they deserve, through everyday acts of respect, thoughtfulness and kindness. Not just wait until this one day and feel they have to spend money on things to tell their mothers or show them some love. The little things count big time (in my book). When I dropped them off, her daughter said ‘Thank you very much. Have a nice Mother’s Day Miss,’ with a big smile. And I see hope for the future in that smile, in that politeness.
A young mother with a very young baby stuck her hand out, a bit hesitantly, and looked surprised when I stopped. I held her bag while she got in the front (relieved I didn’t have to deal with the inconvenience that came with a two door vehicle) She settled her three month old baby against her chest, cute little baby grow, soft glowing skin; the colour of cinnamon and I was instantly taken back to my baby bearing days, when the scent of baby powder, baby oil, a hint of soiled nappy and those cute little baby sounds filled the jeep. I wanted to pack up and have a cuddle and a well desired sniff, but was only bold enough to ask for a picture. The mother looked at me , a bit puzzled, but said ‘ok’. And I saw myself, twenty four years ago, in her eyes. I saw how grateful she was for the ride.
My second son used words to say Happy Mother’s Day Mommy. My daughter showed me a very honest message she posted on her FB profile – her way of telling me. Later, I bumped into a friend on Bathway Beach, who mentioned liking a message my first born had posted on FB- (Yes, face Book again!) When I read it, I had to check what ‘my Ride or Die’ meant. (Urban Dictionary defines it as – Just because they mean that much to you). I applaud them for that and I am very touched, even though I would rather have had something tangible with those messages instead of posted on social media, but I guess that’s how they do it these days. I think I shall paste those messages on a card to keep- to remind them!
For me, being able to help out this young mother – perhaps on her way to her own mother, or perhaps her baby’s father – having this baby, blessing me with some very special and treasured memories- well that just did it for me. It was the most precious gift I could have to signify the essence and true meaning of this special day, that is set aside to celebrate Mothering Sunday. And the best reward for my kindness.
