The most defining day of my life happened 23 years ago, on Mother”s Day. I was 21 years old, in a hospital in Massachusetts with a television crew present, in the barely-lit room. That was the day my daughter Nicole was born. She was the first Mother”s Day baby in the city. Every year she says, “Hey mama, what do you want for Mother”s Day?” I tell her I already have what I want. Nothing can top the gift that girl brought to my life on May 10, 1987. My induction into motherhood was smooth-sailing.
When I brought Nicole home, she slept through the night. She was a content infant. As she grew older, no terrible twos, no wretched teen years and she is someone I am immensely proud of. Five years after Nicole was born, I was blessed with Miranda, another wonderful daughter.
I bet my own mother wished I was more like Nicole. I wasn”t nearly the blessing. Last week I apologized to her for all I put her through when I was narcissistic and was sure I knew everything. She said it didn”t matter because I”m magnificent now. That was really kind of her. Glorious results of a misspent youth? Perhaps.
I often think of what my mother endured as a child, leaving the country where she was born, coming to New York City from Hungary in her early teens. She married at 18. She obtained her PhD while she was raising three children. She was strong. She made sure I used proper grammar, manners and was accountable for my actions.
I didn”t always appreciate that. I rolled my eyes when she corrected me.
Actually, she said my first whole sentence took place during this scenario: We lived in England. I was sitting in a high chair throwing food. She said “If you keep throwing your food, I”m going to spank you.” I replied in a proper English accent, “I would not appreciate that.”
Apparently I didn”t appreciate lots over the years. But now I do. I appreciate the chance to run around Montreal, visit the site of the World”s Fair and see the 1976 Olympics, the rides to swim practice and the piano and violin lessons, even though I can”t play anything on either of the instruments now.
When I was 11 and decided I was a fan of Claude Monet”s art, she had my water lilies print framed and painted one wall in my room a vibrant yellow. She hung a wire across the wall to hang the masterpiece so my room looked like a museum.
I bet she thinks I don”t remember these things, but I do.
The older I get, the more I realize how much I appreciate my mother.
People in many cultures celebrated holidays honoring motherhood, ancient Greeks celebrated a holiday in honor of Rhea, the mother of the gods. Ancient Romans celebrated a holiday in honor of Cybele, a mother goddess. In the British Isles and Celtic Europe, the goddess Brigid, and later her successor St. Brigid, were honored with a spring Mother”s Day. In the U.S., Julia Ward Howe suggested the idea of Mother”s Day in 1872. Howe, who wrote the words to The Battle Hymn of the Republic, saw Mother”s Day as a day dedicated to peace.
I wish my mother a happy Mother”s Day, my daughter a happy birthday and all of you a day filled with peace and love, as the day was intended.
Mandy Feder is the Record-Bee news editor. She can be reached at mandyfeder@yahoo.com or 263-5636, ext. 32.
