Mother, There Is No Other

I told Husband toward the end of last year that nothing makes me feel more grown up than washing my sheets and towels regularly.* Today I’ve got something else to add to that list. Part of being a grown up is remembering holidays and birthdays in time to get a gift or a card in time. Or, at least, to think about getting a gift or a card in time.

I always sense that Mother’s Day is coming. I know it’s in the spring, but when April rolls around I never know if it is one or five weeks away. And then it’s upon me, and it’s too late to get a card, but I call my mom, and everything is fine because she’s never been one for gifts; she’d rather get a phone call, and since I left for college, we’ve talked on the phone almost every day.

This year, I knew exactly when it was. I counted down the weeks, unconsciously. Maybe it’s because I’m far away, and feel obliged to put in the extra effort to let my family know I care. Maybe it’s because everybody I know is a new mom, or about to be a mom, or wanting really, really badly to be a mom. Maybe it’s because I’m older and busier and finding it harder to take the time to tell the people I love, regularly, exactly how I feel about them, and so I leap to take advantage of a day that’s already been marked out on the calendar for exactly that purpose.

My mom still doesn’t know about my blog. I don’t think she does, anyway. Which is weird, because she’s always been my closest confidante. I think that this year, I will send her a link. Because I can’t think of a better gift for a mom than to know that her kids are happy and to be part of that happiness. I want her to know that I’ve written about her before. I want her to know that I affirm every word in my dear sister’s Mother’s Day post. And I want her to know that I am proud of the life I’m living and that I want nothing more than for her to be proud of me, too.

*This is not a shaming post for people who do not wash their sheets and towels every week. Regular sheet washing for me means more than once or twice a semester. [And how long do I have to be out of school before I stop thinking in semesters?]

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3 Responses to Mother, There Is No Other

  1. Ruth says:

    sandy, I keep LOVING each blog post of your more than the last… and I love them all! you continue to amaze me with your maturity and wise sage-like insight. xx

  2. Pingback: In Which I Get Defensive | Bending the Rules

  3. Pingback: For Mom | Bending the Rules

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