Poetry Sunday/Mother's Day, 2026

Today is Poetry Sunday, but it's also Mother's Day. This year, instead of my traditional Mother's Day post in honor of the most important lady in our early lives, I'm going to share once again this wonderful poem by Carrie Shipers that speaks to the point each mother - and father, for that matter - reaches in the lives of their children.

Mother Talks Back to the Monster

by Carrie Shipers

Tonight, I dressed my son in astronaut pajamas,

kissed his forehead and tucked him in.

I turned on his night-light and looked for you

in the closet and under the bed. I told him

you were nowhere to be found, but I could smell

your breath, your musty fur. I remember

all your tricks: the jagged shadows on the wall,

click of your claws, the hand that hovered

just above my ankles if I left them exposed.

Since I became a parent I see danger everywhere-

unleashed dogs, sudden fevers, cereal

two days out of date. And even worse

than feeling so much fear is keeping it inside,

trying not to let my love become so tangled

with anxiety my son thinks they're the same.

When he says he's seen your tail or heard

your heavy step, I insist that you aren't real.

Soon he'll feel too old to tell me his bad dreams.

If you get lonely after he's asleep, you can

always come downstairs. I'll be sitting

at the kitchen table with the dishes

I should wash, crumbs I should wipe up.

We can drink hot tea and talk about

the future, how hard it is to be outgrown.

It's hard to be outgrown, isn't it? - to know that it's now your children that are worried about taking care of you and protecting you from your fears.

Happy Mother's Day to all the wonderful ladies out there doing the world's most difficult job in a difficult time. We love you.

More thoughts coming.

Bilbo

Mothers Day, 2023

If you came here looking for Poetry Sunday, you'll need to wait for two weeks. Today, we revisit my traditional salute to mothers everywhere.

Today is Mothers’ Day, the one day each year we set aside to honor the lady we undervalue the other 364. It’s 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.

Mothers are 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.

Somewhere in my web surfings I found this little 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 twenty-two years ago at the far-too-young age of 74. She spent a long and honorable life raising four children who, I like to think, made her proud ... most of the time, anyway. 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), a small army of grandchildren, and six beautiful great-grandchildren who will never know her love and wisdom and off-the-wall sense of humor that brightened the lives of everyone 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, between them are raising the world’s six greatest grandchildren. And someday those wonderful grandchildren will sit down on Mothers’ Day and reflect – just as their grandpa does today – on the woman who gave up so much of her own life and dreams to make them who they are.

Take the time today to give your Mother a hug and a kiss. Someday, you’ll wish you had.

And so again this year, I wish all the 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.

And lest you think I'm getting too maudlin about the whole thing, here's a picture from long ago of my Dad with four then and future moms: my daughter Yasmin, my sister Lisa, Agnes, and my mother ...

We're a weird family, but somehow we've all turned out all right. More or less.

Have a great Mothers' Day!

More thoughts later.

Bilbo

Mothers Day, 2022

If you came here looking for Musical Sunday, you'll need to wait for two weeks. Today, we revisit my traditional salute to mothers everywhere.

Today is Mothers’ Day, the one day each year we set aside to honor the lady we undervalue the other 364. It’s 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.

Mothers are 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.

Somewhere in my web surfings I found this little 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 twenty-one years ago at the far-too-young age of 74. She spent a long and honorable life raising four children who, I like to think, made her proud ... most of the time, anyway. 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), a small army of grandchildren, and six beautiful great-grandchildren who will never know her love and wisdom and the off-the-wall sense of humor that brightened the lives of everyone 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, between them are raising the world’s six greatest grandchildren. And someday those wonderful grandchildren will sit down on Mothers’ Day and reflect – just as their grandpa does today – on the woman who gave up so much of her own life and dreams to make them who they are.

Take the time today to give your Mother a hug and a kiss. Someday, you’ll wish you had.

And so again this year, I wish all the 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.

And lest you think I'm getting too maudlin about the whole thing, here's a picture from long ago of my Dad with four then and future moms: my daughter Yasmin, my sister Lisa, Agnes, and my mother ...

We're a weird family, but somehow we've all turned out all right. More or less.

Have a great Mothers' Day!

More thoughts later.

Bilbo