Mothers' Day, 2009

According to the little counter on my blogger.com dashboard, today is my one thousandth post since I first started rearranging electrons in this little corner of cyberspace on March 8, 2006.

I thought long and hard about how to approach this milestone, but finally figured that - since it is also Mothers' Day, I might as well take the high road and say something on the topic of motherhood. Mothers are, of course, the wonderful and woefully underappreciated people from whom the Army and the Navy stole their one-time recruiting slogans - the Army's "We do more before 9 AM than most people do all day," and the Navy's "It's not just a job, it's an adventure." With all due respect to Soldiers and Sailors everywhere ... you guys ain't got a clue.

Last year on Mothers' Day I wrote from the heart. This year, ignoring the risk of charges of self-plagiarization, I'm going to repeat what I wrote then. It's still true ...

Today is Mothers’ Day, the one day each year we set aside to honor the lady we undervalue the other 364. Today is the day we remember the person who made our hurts better, explained our homework, cooked our meals, washed our clothes, drove us where we needed to go, warned us about our less-savory acquaintances, embarrassed us in front of our friends, and did her best to point us down the straight line of a moral and upright life.

A few days ago I found this humorous riff on how we look at our Mothers at different ages:

Age 4: Mommy can do anything!
Age 8: Mom knows a lot!
Age 12: Mother doesn't know everything.
Age 14: Mother doesn't know anything.
Age 16: Mother is so old-fashioned.
Age 18: Her? She's out of it.
Age 25: Mom might know something about that.
Age 35: Before we decide, let's ask Mom.
Age 45: What would Mom have thought about that?
Age 65: I wish I could talk that over with Mom.

It’s true.

My mother passed away in 2001 at the age of 74. She spent a long and honorable life raising four children who, I like to think, made her proud. And in her twilight years, her once-formidable mind ravaged by Alzheimer’s Disease, she missed much of the result of her love and care and sacrifice – a son who finally knows how to dance (and who may yet write that book she thought he had in him), and four beautiful great-grandchildren who will never know her love and wisdom and the off-the-wall sense of humor that brightened the lives of those who knew her.

The next generation of Mothers has taken over. My beloved daughter Yasmin and the best daughter-in-law in the world, Tabitha, are raising the world’s four greatest grandchildren. And someday Marcy and Joe, Noah and Leya will sit down on Mothers’ Day and reflect – just as their grandpa does today – on the marvelous lady who gave up so much of her own life and dreams to make them who they are.

Take the time today to honor your Mother. Someday, you’ll wish you had.

That was what I wrote last year.

Again this year, I wish my own Agnes, Yasmin and Tabitha, Amanda and Fiona and SuzyQ, and all the other mothers out there doing the world's toughest job, a very happy Mothers' Day and many more to come.

We couldn't be what we are, or do what we do, without you.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

P.S. - in a few hours I'll be winging my way to San Antonio, Texas, for the rest of the week on a business trip. I should be able to keep up with the blog and the Facebook page from there, but if posts are irregular for a while, just bear with me. Or ask Mom to kiss it and make it better.

B.