Mother’s Day...Mothers’ Day...

Oh, so now you’re going to pick on Mother’s day, 900.  Nice.  Bet you never even had a mother.

Actually, I had a terrific mother.  You could have used her as a template for ideal motherhood, or what most people consider idealistic in a mother on this day we take ours out for the token dinner, give her the token flowers, and say, “Mother!  Just relax!  Let someone else wait on you for a change!  This is your day!”

I am deeply ashamed to say I was old enough to know better the day I realized with a shock that my mother was a complete human being with dreams, hopes, and interests that extended beyond her own family.  Being the good mother that she was (you know, back in the good old family values days), she would never even drop the slightest hint to her husband or kids that she was anything but fulfilled by her roles as mother and wife.  You see, a good mother puts her husband and children first, and wouldn’t want them to feel guilty that she has so completely put her own dreams aside to do so.

My mother was extremely intelligent, up on current events, enjoyed and could hold her own in discussions on national and international politics.  She had a wonderful imagination, was creative, adventurous, and in touch with nature.  Yet you had to watch to catch glimpses of these things since she rarely did anything solely for her own pleasure.  After most of us became adults, we still had to practically bully her into doing things that served no one’s happiness but her own.  She felt too guilty, you see.

And yet, this intelligent woman, up on current events knew this was not how things should be. She didn’t complain about her own life, but she cautioned some of us not to cater to our spouses.

I’m going to apologize to my siblings because some of what I write may sting, and their memories may be different.  But out of respect to my mother, and for women in general, I will continue.

Yes, my mother was largely viewed as a very good wife, a very good mother, and a very good Catholic.  What’s that saying?  The road to heaven is narrow?...

Despite trying and succeeding in the eyes of most at being the ideal mother/wife, if we watched closely, we could see she didn’t completely believe that women should, or could, deny their own sense of self and dedicate their lives to serving their family.  If we watched carefully, we could walk into a room and see a wistful look on her face.  If we listened carefully, we could catch the sudden, subtle drop in her tone as she broached certain subjects.  If she was very tired, her frustration would occasionally surface, holding a liberation movement of its own.

She was, as I said, a good Catholic, and it nearly killed her.  I have seven siblings and all of us love and value each other.  But there is little doubt in my mind that the years of childbearing and rearing took their toll on her already poor health, and she died relatively young.  The Church might say, but look!  She brought eight people into the world!  Yes, there’s that, four of which are female, and had we girls not payed attention to her gentle warnings, had not had her encouragement to read, study, get a good education, we may have fallen into the same self-obliterating roles that she did.

She was a good mother, and she wanted better for us.

So Mom, this is for you, for the vibrant, intelligent, loving, fun, adventurous person that you were.  This is my tribute.  That I recognize that you were more than a role, and I write this hoping that some day, all people everywhere will come to understand that a woman’s dreams, spirit, and individuality don’t leave her with the first afterbirth. 

My kids know not to take me out to a restaurant on Mother’s Day.  I hate those token outings, not for myself - my kids and I relate well, speak openly, and there is mutual respect for each other as individuals.  They know I find it extremely depressing to sit in a restaurant, looking at some of the mothers there, their eyes glazed and a little confused, clearly out of their element being treated as someone deserving of special attention.

It’s heartbreaking to see a mother’s discomfort when someone says, relax, Mother!  Let someone else serve you for once!  Such words should never have to come out of the mouths of family.  For once?  Serve?  What the hell happens the other 364 days of the year?  You can pretty much guess by the way the mother seems to need permission to relax.

The faces of the adult children in such groups are also enlightening.  Self-congratulatory, magnanimous, and the voices a little too loud.  Unnatural, I’d say.  Sue, because this putting mom first and acknowledging her is not the norm in their lives.

As the meal progresses, with people fussing over mother and addressing her like she’s a child, conversations begin to form between family members.  Mother is not deliberately excluded, it’s just that she is not up on the topics, and no one really seems to consider she may have anything of value to say.  Every once in awhile, someone remembers Mother’s presence and asks if she would like more coffee, or goes through the motions of including her in the talk.  Mother, you remember how Harry always liked horses?

Not all families treat their mothers this way, but there are still many who do. 

Someone left a comment with this post,  asking if I would write something about taking back Mother’s Day.  The comment offers this site,  which covers the origins of the day, and how the founder, Ms. Jarvis, was an activist, and how Ms. Howe, a peace activist carried on Jarvis’ fight to de-commercialize the day and bring greater recognition to the person behind the mother role.

I think it’s lovely to have a day to recognize mothers.  But when it’s directed by commercialism, a commercialism that does little to discourage antiquated roles for women (look at the gifts commercials suggest.  See how women are portrayed in the ads.  Check out the condescending tones), it’s just another way of using women and reinforces the old, smothering, spirit killing roles of women.  A good mother is selfless.  A good mother needs nothing more than to serve her family.  A good mother never, ever thinks of herself or her needs and dreams, which is why we just have to, have to provide this one single day every year to be nice to her and treat her.

We still have a long, long way to go with women’s equality.  Women are still too often considered by two roles: wife and brood mare.  Harsh, yes, but I can’t say “mother” because I would like to see that label become something more than it is today.  I would like to see recognition of the person behind the role, which far too often is still that of a brood mare.

My mother did die young, but she fortunately lived long enough to do some things solely for herself, and she lived each of those experiences with passion, inquisitiveness, and a hell of a lot of fun.  I, and I am sure my siblings, are so grateful for that.  We saw some of what my mother could have done with her life had she not been bound by those good old fashioned family values.

I cannot say my mother’s life was unhappy.  She accepted her roles, but never killed that exuberant spirit that fought to get out.  She understood the times, her family, and the demands of her Church, and she made a decision for herself to follow those assigned roles.  But she wanted us to be free of them.

The photo that most exemplifies my mother is one in which she is standing with some of my siblings in our driveway.  She is holding up some trophy one of us won at school.  Her face is beautiful.  Unrestrained joy as she holds up the trophy high above her head.  Selfless love, joy for our accomplishments.

My mother wanted better for us.  In honour to Fernande, I write this piece.  Yes, we carry on the fight, Mom.  Every damn day.

And I love you now as always.

And Palestine is still a battle zone.  Sorry.