Mother Knows Best

BY TRACY BECKERMAN

As I was perusing the card aisle a week before Mother’s Day, I noticed that the store had already started replacing the Mother’s Day cards with Father’s Day cards, and I realized I’d better start thinking about what to get my mother this year before my only remaining option was a stuffed teddy bear left over from Valentine’s Day. When I was little, I used to make my mom Popsicle-stick picture frames that she seemed to really love. But somehow, I thought that giving your mom a Popsicle-stick picture frame when you’re 58 might not be as appreciated as it was when you were 5. Still, I struggled to figure out what to get her. She had enough nightgowns to fill a lingerie catalog and yet she mostly wore a T-shirt to bed. She had more jewelry than Pandora, yet she mostly wore the same earrings every day. She had plenty of bath oils and scarves and pretty writing paper and all the other things they tell you your mother would love for Mother’s Day that my mother didn’t, and so I was at a loss for what to get her that would convey the depth of my love.

When I was a kid, my brothers and I would give my mom her homemade cards along with burnt breakfast in bed, because, really, who wouldn’t want electrocuted toast on your special day? Then, we’d take her to the park for a gourmet picnic lunch (peanut butter and jelly sandwiches) and make an extra effort not to fight with one another so Mom could have a peaceful Mother’s Day. This kind of celebration seemed to really make her happy, although for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why. Toys, candy or maybe a pet llama, I could understand. But eating lousy, kid-cooked food and hanging out with my annoying brothers and me? That I didn’t quite get.

“Why do you like to hang out with us on Mother’s Day?” I would ask her.

“Because you guys are the ones who made me a mother, and I want to celebrate that with you,” she would say.

“I still don’t get it.” you’ll be able to visit not only stars throughout our Milky Way but dozens of other galaxies across the nearby universe -- a feat that would make even the great Captain James T. Kirk envious.

“Someday when you’re a mother, you’ll understand,” she’d say, as she’d give me a squeeze.

Of course, like everything else that she predicted, she was right about this, too. When I had my own kids, I suddenly understood that it wasn’t about the gifts at all, but about spending the day with the people I loved and having them want to spend the day with me.

Spending the day with my mom for Mother’s Day now, however, wasn’t quite as easy. Several years ago, my parents sold the house I grew up in and moved about a thousand miles and a two-and-a-half-hour plane ride away. Suddenly, the Popsicle-stick picture frame was looking like the best option. Still, I wasn’t completely ready to give up the cause. I called my younger brother to see if he had any ideas.

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He did.

“Hey,” he said. “Why don’t we see if we can find an inexpensive flight and bring Mom up here for Mother’s Day?”

“She’ll never go for it,” I argued. “She gets mad when we just buy her gum.”

We decided to get my other brother in on the plan, and then without asking my mom how she felt about it, we just sent her the ticket.

“It’s nonrefundable,” I said when she called to complain. “Happy Mother’s Day. We’ll see you next week!”

“Don’t you want to know how I feel?” she asked.

“I know how you feel,” I said. “And I love you, too.”

Tracy Beckerman is the author of the Amazon Bestseller, “Barking at the Moon: A Story of Life, Love, and Kibble,” available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble online! You can visit her at www. tracybeckerman.com.

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