I may have picked up the card years ago in the “Humorous” section of Mother’s Day cards, one with the teaser on the outside, “What’s the Best Way to Remember Mother’s Day?” And if you’re the least bit curious, you open it, where you read, “Forget it once,” on the left ( with a laughing face) and the words, “Mom, your love for this family is too amazing to forget!” on the other side.
It’s a stark reminder to remember Mom this Mother’s Day.
I grew up in a family where my mom worked at home with the kids, and my dad worked at the office. Mom and Dad loved their respective roles. That’s why Mom took it especially hard when Dad let Mother’s Day slip by him one year. To her, it was like Dad forgot her special contribution to the family.
It only happened only once, because once was was enough for Dad always to remember.
I don’t recall the Sunday sermon that morning, but either the preacher chose not to preach about the love of mothers, or Dad slept through it. So, apparently, the church was not a safety net for forgetful dads.
What I do remember is watching Mom in the kitchen when she finally realized there would be no Mother’s Day “surprise.” I couldn’t have been more than seven or eight at the time. I thought Mom was slicing onions when I walked into the kitchen: her face quenched up a little at first and then more and more as she fought back the tears. I was cautiously backing out of the kitchen when Dad sauntered in. If we had had a dog house, Dad’s name would have been on it that day.
In Dad’s defense, he was at a time when his life was full-on. His dental practice was thriving. His first appointment was usually at 8 a.m., and he worked hard all day. Plus, he had three rambunctious boys at home. And Mom was not one to leave hints about what to get her for Mother’s Day. So, when he walked into the kitchen that day, he had no idea what was coming, but in an instant, Dad knew he was in deep trouble.
I can say this: Dad never missed another Mother’s Day. He went all out for Mom’s birthdays (which happened to be Valentine’s Day) and Christmas.
Here’s a fair warning to all: remember Mom this Sunday. Find a way to thank her for all her sacrifices.
I love the story about the second-grade teacher who asked a little boy in her class this question: “Suppose your mother baked a pie, and there were seven of you—your parents and five children. What part of the pie would you get?”
“A sixth,” replied the boy.
“I’m afraid you don’t know your fractions,” said the teacher. “Remember, there are seven of you.”
“Yes, teacher,” said the boy, “but you don’t know my mother. Mother would say she didn’t want any pie.”
Our house had plenty of food, including pie, but Mom sacrificed in a thousand other ways. She died several years ago (March 17, 2019, at the age of 97); Dad preceded her (October 25, 2016, age 92), but I still think of things she did for me. She was involved in big events, like birthdays, award banquets, and graduations. But she was also there in the small stuff, like soothing my sniffles when I was hurt or trying to talk me to sleep when I was too wired to fall asleep, or cheering me on in football, wrestling, or track, and supporting me when I failed, or congratulating me when I succeeded.
Mom did it all.
Milton Berle once asked, “If evolution really works, how come mothers only have two hands?
Good question. One thing is for sure: moms haven’t evolved beyond the point of needing affirmation and recognition.
Just ask the dad or the child who forgets Mother’s Day.