the ocean

Mother's Day has never been a huge deal in my family. My mom just doesn't really want the attention that much, or maybe she just prefers being a martyr by telling us she doesn't want the attention. Of course, my grandmother loved the attention, or probably just loved going out to eat at reasonably-priced family restaurants, so I have been to more than a few Mother's Day brunches in my time. But now we frequently do nothing at all; Ian and I just took my mom to dinner last week while we were in Quincy and designated that Mother's Day. I had the Sonora Chicken Pasta.

Anyway, none of this should be viewed as a lack of enthusiasm for my mother, or for mothers in general. My mom spent the better part of two decades knee deep in shoebox dioramas, viola recitals, and extra credit papers about alchemists for me. She even let me get away with eating pretty much nothing but buttered white rice for a few years there. She's served as a ghost writer, an accompanist, and a staff photographer, in addition the usual motherly occupations as chauffeur, tutor, and chef. She's great! And I'm even excited that she'll be living with me part time once we move into the new place; isn't that every 38 year old's dream?

So happy Mother's Day! Call your mother. Unless she's Mia Farrow; the line will probably be busy all day.