It’s a tradition in my family to always pick out funny cards for any occasion, including Mother’s Day. So I was quite proud of my accomplishment this year, when I selected a card that read on the outside: “Mom, now that I’m a parent, I understand what you went through in raising me…” On the inside: “Hell. Happy Mother’s Day.”
I know I wasn’t the easiest kid to deal with, and I’m glad my mom had the patience to deal with a kid who was really too smart for her own good.
I never suspected that my mother had any regrets in how she raised me. After all, I graduated near the top of my class, attended a well-respected university where I graduated with honors, spent a summer studying in England, married, bought a house, and gave birth to two beautiful daughters of my own. Sure, I’ve got my share of problems, too, but I thought mom had to be pretty proud of her job as mother. In fact, I often wondered how I could ever measure up to her standard in raising my own children.
A few years ago, mom gave me a small piece of advice that made me realize that no matter how well we do, guilt can plague any mother. I don’t remember how the conversation came up, but at one point she became very serious and told me, “Just promise me one thing: when your daughter is sick, take your sick time and be with her. Because no matter what’s going on at work, no matter your deadlines or how much people say they need you to come in that day, they don’t need you as much as your kid.”
Truer words never spoken.
My mom went on to say that she regrets not staying home with me more when I was sick. Instead, she would go to work, believing that they needed her more at work. She usually called in my grandmother to be with me for the day. But she was right – I didn’t want my grandmother, I wanted my mom. My mom was the one I felt most comfortable with, and even though it was the same Campbell’s canned soup, chicken-noodle soup somehow tasted better when my mom made it.
When she retired a few years ago, she had nearly a year of sick time saved up from her 30 years of service. One year. And she could only cash out a tiny fraction of that time. She looked at that lost time as lost opportunity to be with me when I needed her. I’ve tried to tell her that I understood that she needed to work, but I don’t think she’s fully forgiven herself for it. I sometimes think she is trying to make up for that time by spending more time with her granddaughters now.
And so I’ve taken her advice and vowed to spend as much quality time with Cordy and Mira as I can. When one of them is sick, I do all I can to be there for them. And I remember that work will come and go, but nothing can replace the comfort a mother can provide to her children.
Happy Mother’s Day, mom. You probably don’t believe me, but I do actually hear your advice. Sometimes I even follow it. And I want you to know that while we may not have had as much time together as we both would have liked when I was a kid, it was always quality time.
