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I always laugh a little when I see ads for Mother’s Day presents inviting grateful children to take their maternal parental figure to lunch, buy her flowers or jewelry, or send her to a quaint bed and breakfast. I laugh because I am a single mother whose child lacks both the height to reach the cereal and credit enough to shell out for brunch. Just like at Christmas, unless some other relative makes sure he has a gift ready to give me, I’m pouring my own special holiday coffee. And that’s OK.
Which does not mean that I don’t want anything for this occasion. Most of my would-be requests are out of reach, either literally or figuratively, because of the aforementioned short, broke third grader or because they fall into the “world peace” category beyond my control. I don’t require gifts, of course — I didn’t become a parent expecting them, and raising a nice, responsible kid who’s a good person is reward enough.
But since we’re on the subject … here are some ideas.
Brunch I don’t have to cook: Like I said, I can pour my own cup of joe and scramble my own tofu, but sometimes it would be nice not to have to. I don’t have a partner who can get out the step stool for the kid or supervise with the kitchen chopping, and I don’t intend to spend Sunday in the emergency room repairing tiny fingers that met the wrong end of a paring knife. No one is guaranteed help or pampering, but I certainly wouldn’t turn them away, either.
A reprieve for people for whom all this is painful: We all know this is a commercial holiday, full of companies and ads that insist you buy things to celebrate. But many brands have been vocal about understanding that this particular day can be triggering for myriad reasons and have allowed potential customers to opt out of related marketing.
Maybe you wanted to be a mother and couldn’t, or lost a child. Maybe things just aren’t great with your own mom. This weekend we will be burying my beloved grandmother, the star of many a personal Mother’s Day. While all of the ads for roses and wine don’t upset me, I am privileged to be surrounded by loving family to make it more bearable. Everyone doesn’t have that. I wish this to be an easy weekend for those people.
More from Leslie Gray Streeter
A door: My room, on the third floor of our home, is spacious and airy and kind of a loft, meaning that it has lots of closets but no door. You know how they say good fences make good neighbors? Good doors make good mothers. I love my kid, but sometimes I need the kind of space that’s cemented with a knob and a lock. I’m already a great mom without the added privacy, but think how much better I could be with one? See also: An en suite bathroom, microwave and wine fridge. My own mom half-joked that if I had all that I might never come down. I’m sure I would! Who can say? Let’s test it.
Free child care: I’m not talking about a magical nanny that blows into town via umbrella. I mean federally-funded universal child care — the kind our government has yet to follow through on, while also refusing to guarantee a living wage, affordable housing or health care. Families need better options for child care to thrive, to be better parents, to support ourselves and our kids. I don’t even know why I have to say this.
An end to the violence that causes mothers to lose their children: My heart and brain have been breaking this week in the wake of the death of a young man I met at a local cell phone store who was shot in that very location the day after we crossed paths. This weekend, his mother will spend Mother’s Day, and every day after, without her child. There is no brunch, no flower, no bauble that can replace that or make that right. Mothers are losing their babies every single day, and it seems hopeless. Useless.
Pleases and thank yous: Like I said, I didn’t become a mother for presents or glory. But I’m human, right? My child is fairly gracious, but even he sometimes is like, “Can I get a Pop-Tart?” and I’m like, “Can I get a Pop-Tart what?” And he’s like “Oh, yeah, ‘please,’” and I pause “Dateline” and give him the Pop-Tart and it’s crickets and I’m like, “Umm, do you have something to say?” And he’s like, “Oh; sorry; thank you.’” And I go back to “Dateline.” Remember kids: Mom worked to get you that Pop-Tart. It would be awesome for her not to have to work for an acknowledgment.
Just saying.
leslie.streeter@thebaltimorebanner.com
Leslie Gray Streeter is a columnist excited about telling Baltimore stories — about us and the things that we care about, that touch us, that tickle us and that make us tick, from parenting to pop culture to the perfect crab cake. She is especially psyched about discussions that we don't usually have. Open mind and a sense of humor required.
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