For Mother’s Day, the Gift of Time

The other day as we were driving around town running errands, my sweet husband asked, “What would you like to do for Mother’s Day?”

Assuming he was referring to what we would be doing with my mother I began to tell him, but he interrupted me and said, “No, for you.”

“Honey, I don’t have kids, remember?” I replied, with a sideways glance at him just to make sure he wasn’t having a senior moment.

“But you are a grandma,” he reminded me casually.

Hmmm, he did have a point.  I have never thought of myself as his daughters’ “step-mother.” Since they are in their 20s and 30s, it seems we’re all too old for that, and I enjoy and love them as I do dear friends.

But ever since his oldest had her first daughter, Ava, two years ago January, our family has changed in new and wonderful ways.

Not unlike the composite tapestry of so many families today, I married a man with grown children, and between Ava’s parent’s parents, who are all divorced and remarried, she has four sets of grandparents.

My own mother thinks it’s a hoot that she can call me ‘granny’ and couldn’t be happier to have become a step-great-grandmother.

When I was growing up, Mother’s Day was a big deal.  My dad would take my brother and me on a special shopping trip to pick out presents for my mom and grandmothers. We would go to church and then head over to my grandparent’s house for Mother’s Day brunch and an afternoon in which the women of the house were not allowed to lift a finger. Afterwards, my brother and I would actually wash the dishes willingly, calling a Mother’s Day truce between us, a temporary ceasefire from our usual bickering over who would wash and who would dry.

But then, in April of 1989, my brother was killed, and the whole world turned upside down.  Mother’s Day that year and for some years after seemed somehow a cruel reminder of our great loss.  There was an unfathomable void, and I would approach Mother’s and Father’s Days from that time forward with a peculiar sense of trepidation and a wish that could never be realized.

How I would wish I could bring my brother back. Bring our family together again and celebrate like the old days … the greatest gift of all time.

As the years have passed, life has moved on, and to some extent our family has healed.  But I always try to think of something special to show my mom just how much she means to me on Mother’s Day.  I never feel like it is quite enough because my brother is not here to share in my appreciation and admiration for a woman who has been through so much and come out the other side with grace and dignity despite some very dark times.

When I called my mom this year to see what she wants for Mother’s Day, she said, “I don’t want ‘things’ on Mother’s Day, I just want to spend time with my kid, and laugh and reminisce and hug and love.”

She went on to say, “With most children so busy with work and trying to keep their heads above water, relationships take the most beating in terms of time available. Children your age have marriages, kids, jobs and so many extracurricular interests. The thing you have least of is time to spend with parents.  I think it’s hard on both sides, for the kids and for the parents as they age. But I love when you and I get together and just talk.”

As it turns out, we’ll be babysitting Ava this Mother’s Day weekend, and I think it will be one of the nicest Mother’s Days yet.  I will honor my mom’s request to not make a fuss, we’ll play with Ava, spending some much needed quality time together, just talking and hanging out, and she can call me “granny” all she wants if it makes her giggle.  It’s her day.

And I’ve given my husband’s Mother’s Day question more serious thought.  I think I will opt for my first-ever Mother’s Day breakfast in bed.

Lynn Selich resides in Newport Beach. She can be reached at lynnselich@yahoo.com, follow her on Facebook at Lynn Selich-Columnist or on twitter at http://twitter.com/LynnSelich.