Every Day Is Mother's Day

This year, my Mother’s Day started in April and may not wrap up this Sunday. A mother’s work is never done, so why should the holiday end?

By “holiday,” I don’t mean an occasion marked by brunch with bottomless mimosas or gifts of chocolates and flowers. Those things are nice, but it’s motherhood’s unexpected and challenging moments that matter most, and they’re not limited to the second Sunday in May.

Three days ago, I stopped at Einstein’s Bagels for a half-dozen bagels. At the register, I held six dollar bills in my hand. When the total came to $6 and 40-something cents, I fumbled for the right combination of dimes and nickels before I heard the clerk, a young man, ask for $5 and 70-something cents. I looked up. The words “Senior Discount” screamed at me from the register screen. Ouch!

“How old does a person have to be to get the discount?” (What can I tell you? I’m a masochist and had to know what age the clerk guessed me to be.)

The young man blinked. “Twenty.”

I mentally high-fived him and his mother. Ooh, lady, you raised a good ‘un. 

Jennifer Ball, who writes The Happy Hausfrau blog, recently took to task a woman who, in the guise of being helpful, shredded the self-esteem of Ball’s teenage son. In this post, Ball’s in mama bear mode and her message will resonate with everyone who has ever wished for an ally, protector, mom to appear at a vulnerable moment. 

My New Jersey-born and bred mother visited me in Texas last month. She ate breakfast tacos, admired the deer in the Hill Country, endured a Houston traffic jam, celebrated my Older Daughter’s birthday, spent time with my best friend, and got acquainted with my cats. Those activities aren’t on anyone’s “Best of the Lone Star State” list, but she participated in them so happily, she made every day a mini-celebration.  

The lesson I’m taking from this year’s long and winding Mother’s Day? It’s in the ordinary, everyday moments mothers make the strongest impression. If kids see us ease someone’s embarrassment, leap to someone’s defense, or find joy and purpose in everyday activities, they’re more likely to do the same. Every time a mother handles the tough stuff with grace, she shows the rest of us how it’s done.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Three Things

Did you miss me? I missed you.

My mother and youngest sister visited recently, and reading and writing, including blogging, went out the window. I’m not apologizing. My mom’s 89, and I’m going to take advantage of every minute I have with her.

That said, I’m back and have three things on my mind.

1. Is It Real or Is It Memorex?

On Tuesday, I recorded The Voice because I knew I wouldn’t be free to watch it at its starting time. Once the recorded show began, the drama of the bottom three finalists sucked me in. Twitter would save one of them! Carson Daly urged viewers to tweet to save their favorite. I’ll do it, Carson! I tweeted to save Kat. After I hit SEND, my husband gave me a sideways look. “We recorded this show, remember? The voting window closed a long time ago.” Sorry, Kat! (Luckily, the rest of America saved her.) 

Did a recorded show ever make a fool of you?

2. Smart Is Beautiful

George Clooney is engaged to marry Amal Alamuddin, a 36-year-old human rights lawyer who speaks three languages. Mackenzie Dawson, writing in the New York Post, applauds Clooney’s choice and speaks for me and every other mother of smart women. “There’s no greater aphrodisiac than a happy woman with a full life, who is passionate about something besides getting a ring on her finger. Just ask George Clooney.” Here’s the link. 

3. Only Connect!

I wince at billboards with misspelled/misused words and regularly remind students they’re isn’t the same as their and neither one’s a stand-in for there. Nevertheless, if we adults want kids to read, write, and speak their native language with fluency, we have to stop our slang-induced sniffs and knock it off with the disapproving looks.

In this New York Times article, John McWhorter argues the verbal tic like and the newish adverb totally do not degrade the language. Instead, they show the speaker’s/writer’s desire to connect. Here’s McWhorter:  “. . . amid what often seems like the slack-jawed devolution of a once-mighty language, we can find evidence for, of all things, a growing sophistication. Yes, sophistication — even in the likes of, well, “like,” used so prolifically by people under a certain age. We associate it with ingrained hesitation, a fear of venturing a definite statement. Yet the hesitation can be seen less as a matter of confidence than one of consideration. 

Do you think language is meant to, like, morph? Do you totally applaud the Alamuddin/Clooney engagement?

Bluebonnet Madness

Mamas don’t let your babies eat bluebonnets. Don’t let your kiddos roll down highway embankments, either. 

I know you don’t have eyes in the back of your heads and must check light meters and swap out camera lenses, but make sure there are no fire-ant mounds in the vicinity before you settle your infant amidst the foliage.

Daddies don’t park on the left shoulder of the highway. Yes, it’s the side closest to the flower-studded median, but it abuts the passing lane, and a lot of Texas drivers take a 75-mph-speed-limit as a suggestion meant for little old ladies from Louisiana, not us.

It’s bluebonnet season in Texas, and the sight of those perky blossoms in highway right-of-ways induces madness. That clot of cars up ahead doesn’t represent an accident. Instead, it marks the location of a particularly bright, wide swath of wildflowers.

This year, the bluebonnets and Indian paintbrush along State Highway 71 from La Grange past Bastrop are eye-popping. Are the bluebonnets extra blue this year or do they just look that way because the Indian paintbrush carries an extra-orange zing?

Two Sundays ago, the people stopped by the side of the road ranged from teenage girls in dress jeans, nice tees, and stilettos to three-generation groups, to brand-new parents and their infants.

It’s a tradition in southeast and central Texas to pose babies among the bluebonnets. The same parents who painstakingly research safety ratings of car seats, strollers, and cribs go a little wild during spring wildflower season, park by the side of the highway, and carry their little ones up embankments and down gullies in search of the perfect bluebonnet-filled site.  For a few minutes, at least, mom and dad don't worry about outside threats like ticks, bees, and fur-covered critters. The bluebonnet’s a powerful draw.

Some of those parked by the side of the road pose for selfies while others set up cameras on tripods. Some bring props for their photo sessions: a guitar, dogs, hats of all kinds. Some dress to blend with the bluebonnets, while others aim for contrast.

The Texas Department of Transportation sows about 30,000 pounds of wildflower seeds along rights of way every year.

In a state sometimes wracked by partisan politics, we can all agree our wildflowers are gorgeous. Thanks, TxDOT. 

Let's drive extra friendly during bluebonnet season. The camera-toting dude we have to swerve to avoid is in the grip of seasonal madness. He's got bluebonnets on the brain.