My Motherless Mother's Day Paradox

When I was younger (i.e. before I had kids) I used to celebrate New Year’s Eve by going out to parties, dinners and other festivities. Now Mrs. Dude and I stay in, make our traditional Appetizer Dinner, and usually fall asleep before the ball drops.

When I was even younger than that, Halloween was always a chilly Midwestern night spent running around the neighborhood with friends, dressed crazily and on the hunt for a slew of candy. These days I spend October 31^st chasing down my 2 Junior Dudes, trying to get that one elusive snapshot featuring both of them actually smiling and looking at the camera while dressed in their costumes. I still try to get a slew of candy, though now it’s under the auspices of being for the kids.

The way we celebrate events and milestones evolves over the course of our lives. Things that seemed extremely important then (like having a Valentine) are not nearly as important as I realize that others are now (understanding why Martin Luther King Day is not just a random day-off).  There are also some days that we don’t realize the importance of until after the fact.

This year, for the 6^th year in a row, I’ll honor Mrs. Dude on Mother’s Day. The first year was merely symbolic, since she was just completing the first trimester with the Little Dude in her belly, but the last 4, plus this year, are the real deal.

Also this year, for the 4^th year in a row, I’ll remember my own Mother who is now infinitely farther away than she was on the phone calls I made to her over the previous 11 second Sundays in May while living 3,000 miles away from her.

This maternal dichotomy has turned Mother’s Day into a bittersweet time for me. I couldn’t be more proud of my wife for the amazing job she does day after day caring for and nurturing our two spirited young sons. But I also couldn’t miss my own mother more than I do on this day, for some reason more than on others.

There are myriad annual events which might be considered more important or seem more significant like birthdays, anniversaries or even the date of her death. But for some reason Mother’s Day now always feels like a bucket of ice-cold water to the face for me. Maybe it’s the regret of not spending more of these holidays actually visiting her or it could just be further reinforcement of the finality of her passing.

Just as I felt like an outsider while growing up Jewish during Christmas season, silently dreaming of the grass being greener in the other Testament, now for some reason I have a hard time shaking the emptiness that is inherent this time of year.  Again, this is not a knock on my own wife who will be celebrated from start to finish that day because she has earned and deserves it. But these women who sacrifice literally everything for their children & families should be remembered not only on a random Sunday, but every day. These incredible parental legacies must live on, whether they are around the corner or on the other side of fate.

Maybe the most important thing I can hope is that just as my Mother used to wait up for me to come home around midnight when I was a teen to make sure I was home safely and securely, that she is still watching out for, or over, me to make sure that things are OK on my side. It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest to know she’s looking for assurance that I’m happy, which I usually am, or that my family is thriving, which we seem to be.

What I now know is that even though I only got 35 Mother’s Days with my Mother, which was more than some people get and less than others, those were the best possible gifts for her and for me. Now I must teach my boys to make the most of their own Mother’s Days, because no matter how many they get it might not be enough to fully honor the most special person in their lives: their Mother. 

Happy Mother's Day to you and yours. 

The two finest mothers I could ever imagine:
 Mine (L) & Mrs. Dude (R)
10-month-old Little Dude (C)

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A Mothers Day Correlation

In case you missed it, Mothers’ Day was Sunday and I have a little different perspective on it than I did last year.  In my post last year, I mentioned my mother and wife, but failed to mention one more important mother in my life, my grandmother (my mother’s mother). She had a tremendous influence on me growing up, and was the only grandparent I ever really knew. Sadly she passed away just 3 days after Mother’s Day last year and is certainly missed this year.

I still miss my mother, and that will likely never change, but now her spirit is back with us in a different way. It’s a Jewish custom to name a newborn after a deceased family member, which is supposed to cause some sort of metaphysical connection between two people whose lives never crossed. I know that sounds like something from an episode of LOST, but trust me, it’s a thing.  

When the Littler Dude was born last fall, he received the same initials that my mother had and they will now be forever linked.  And so far, after 7 months, he is showing signs of sharing some similar traits with his namesake. Here are a few:

·        Lack of sleep: My mother was never a very sound sleeper. Neither is the Littler Dude. That was rough for her and now continues for us. 

·         Love of family: My mother’s favorite thing in the world was being around her family, especially her kids and grandkids, even if they were getting rowdy. The Littler Dude loves being held and often doesn’t like when Mrs. Dude or I put him down for a break. Even if he is immediately smushed like a pancake by his older brother, the Little Dude.

·         Laughter: My mother was a big sitcom fan, as am I, and would frequently watch late-night reruns of classic shows she’d loved the first 20 times she’d seen them. The Littler Dude cackles hysterically when his big brother sings and dances for him, even if it’s the same made-up-on-the-spot song and dance for the 50^th time that day.

·         Appetite: My mother always made unique food combos for herself, like cold chicken for breakfast (one of her faves). The Littler Dude has yet to taste a food he doesn’t like, including Gerber puree classics like Chicken & Apples or Sweet Potatoes, Apples and Raisins (bleh).

·         Toughness: My mother faced health issues almost since birth and battled cancer with ever fiber of her being. The Littler Dude gets repeatedly squashed, rolled and folded in half by his older brother. Neither one of them complains about the adversity they’ve faced.

We have a long way to go, but so far the Littler Dude is living up to his namesake’s legacy. And with another Mother’s Day now passed, I am thankful to be able to spend it with the amazing mother of my children. Her patience with all three Dudes (both big and small) that she lives with is inexplicable, unrivaled and beyond appreciated.  Happy Mothers’ Day, Mrs. Dude!

Happy Mothers Day from the Dude family to you and yours!!

Three Times a Lady

Since it’s the last Monday in May, today is Memorial Day which is an important American holiday for many reasons. First and foremost, Memorial Day is a tribute to the brave soldiers who’ve perished while serving in our Armed Forces. Another way of looking at it is as the only holiday in a 3 month period where I don’t have to get Mrs. Dude a gift.

Don’t get me wrong, my wife is amazing and totally deserving of every kind of gift, card and cake that you can think of.  If I had the means I would get her everything she wanted plus things she didn’t even  know she wanted, like a gold-plated toothbrush. Or a night off. But that isn’t an easy task from May through July every year. (Side note: If enough of you read this, think it’s wonderful AND tell friends who are TV producers and/or book editors, that might happen sooner than later.) 

What’s the issue?  I pay tribute to my superlative wife on the second Sunday in May for Mother’s Day. Then a mere three weeks later (give or take, depending on the year) is Mrs. Dude’s birthday. Again, gifts and cake are mandatory.  The former for her, latter for both of us. Then a little over a month later is our wedding anniversary.  Each year a more elaborate gift is customary, per some old list made by people who thought that people wanted gifts made of paper, iron or wool.

I want to make it clear: these are all great occasions that I am fortunate to celebrate. I just wish they were spaced out 2-3 months apart. Ideally an April/July/October schedule, if you know anyone who can help me reconfigure our family calendar.  Like Doc Brown.  

So what’s the bigger issue? I will be the first to admit that I am not a great gift shopper. I always tell myself that I should start looking weeks in advance, then never do and scramble at the last moment to put something together. There must be some deep psychological reason for my procrastination, but I will have to figure it out later.

It’s a challenging situation that I face. Possibly even a lose-lose situation as Michael Scott is fond of. Is one of these three days more important than the other or are they all equal? Mother’s Day rewards her for the hard work she’s done on a daily basis for 2 ½ years.  But our anniversary rewards her for the hard work she’s done on a daily basis for the last (almost) 5 years.  I must give my wife a lot of credit. Dealing with babies is not easy. And neither is raising children. 

I’d have to guess that the birthday is the least important. While it’s nice to be celebrated, no woman I know over the age of 21 wants the actual reminder that she is a year older. Then again, from my experience, they don’t usually seem to mind the cake so much.  

Another twist in this whole scenario is the Little Dude. He’s fantastic, but also a sponge financially. He rarely picks up the tab when we go out to eat and never pays for gifts. Even when he makes homemade cards for his mother, I have to do all the writing.

So what should I do if I have limited funds and want to make sure Mrs. Dude gets the most special recognition that she truly deserves?  We all know the old saying “it’s the thought that counts”, so if I merely think about getting her really nice gifts, will that be sufficient?  I’m 1/3 of the way through this year’s triumvirate. My Mother’s Day earned decent reviews, with bonus points for fresh bagels and flowers, but now I have to top that and only have a few days to spare. Can you spot me a Benjamin?

What would you do if you were me?

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A Bittersweet Mother's Day

Once when I was 7 or 8, I found a chocolate bar in my house. No one was around, or at least looking, so I tried it.  I can still recall the sharp-rich flavor from the first bite, then the harsh sourness as I chewed.  I probably thought to myself that I had taken a bad bite, so I tried again and received the same undesirable result.  I remember flipping the wrapper to see what it said, and it was a word I had never seen before: Bittersweet.  I didn’t know what the word meant at the time, other than “awful candy bar”, and it took me a long time but I know now.

Mother’s Day was this weekend and there are two very important mothers in my life: my own mother and my wife.  It is important to honor them both on this day. Their day. The one day of the year dedicated to celebrating how wonderful they are for having given themselves to their children and families. Even though we should really celebrate them 365 days a year. 

My wife is wonderful. She is not picky or demanding and is very laid back. My mother was always surprised by how calm Mrs. Dude is and has asked me countless times “Is that real? Is anyone really that chill?”  I can’t think of anyone who is more helpful, caring, nurturing or loving than my wife. She is now half-way through her/our second gestational journey and is still constantly chasing our 35-pound 2 ½ year old Little Dude with a smile on her face.

We had a wonderful weekend celebrating my wife and the superlative mother she is. It was not-surprisingly all low-key with quality spent time at the beach and the pool enjoying the weather and each other. We BBQed and played with our Little Dude. And it was amazing.

But honoring my own mother was more difficult. The only mother I know who might be more extraordinary than my wife is my own. From the moment she birthed my 11 lb. body, she was always willing to sacrifice for me. As the youngest of three kids, I was able to get a lot of quality time with her when I was younger, when my older siblings had grown up and gone to college. We spoke our own language and no one else really ever got it.  And that was OK with us.

What made this weekend hard is that I couldn’t call my mother to thank her for her tireless work over these last few decades. She lost her battle with breast cancer 16 months ago, so this was my second Mother’s Day without a mother to call or send a card to. And it sucked.

Living across the country for the last dozen years, most years I was not with my mother on Mother’s Day.  Now I would give anything to have just one of those missed opportunities back. To sit beside her and listen to stories of her pregnancy with me, when people constantly asked if she was having twins. Including her OB. (No joke). Stories that only she knew and I never had the foresight to ask her to record.  I try to recall as many as I can, but it gets harder with each passing day as my own child begins to occupy more of my limited available memory.

I really struggled with how to pay tribute to her now that she is no longer just a phone call away. Oftentimes when I would call her, she’d answer with “that’s good ESP”, meaning she was just thinking of me.  After a while I realized that it wasn’t a coincidence. I was constantly on her mind, as I’m sure my brother and sister were as well. For that’s what a great mother is about. Living for her children. Her family that she would do anything for and which keeps her up at night from birth until, well, until…

I guess the best way to pay tribute to my mother is to continue our ESP. For though I can no longer call her on the phone, all I really need to do is think of her and I know she’ll be there for me.  As she always has been and always will be.  Just as I know my wife will be for our son. From now until, well, until…

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Rockin’ Friday: Mother’s Day Edition

This Rockin’ Friday is a special one, as one of the most important days of the year is only two days away. Mothers’ Day is this Sunday and I want to pay tribute to those wonderful women we owe our lives to with a blossoming bouquet of musical treats. 

Rather than pick just one song, this week I’m going to highlight a few of my favorite songs about mothers. As I was trying to make my choice, I realized there were so many good options that it would be impossible. So like a good mother would I am recognizing a whole batch.

Without further ado, I present "The Dude’s Top 5 Mother Songs":

1)      Mama Tried: This Merle Haggard classic is a tale of a young man who committed a crime despite his mother’s best efforts to keep him on the straight and narrow. He realizes that he should have listened to her, but not until after he “turned 21 in prison, doing life without parole”. Mothers are wise, people, listen to them!

2)      Your Mother Should Know: Paul McCartney wrote this tribute to a mother’s wisdom for the Magical Mystery Tour album & movie. Though he basically calls her old (repeatedly), Macca suggests that we honor her by listening to a song that “your mother would know”.  Even if you don’t like the song, you can honor her by  dancing with her for a few minutes.

3)      That Was Your Mother: Paul Simon’s tells the tale to his child about the fun he and the child’s mother had before the child was born. Apparently they spent some wild times in Louisiana dancing to zydeco music and as a result, the kid was born. They must have stopped at Pat O'Briens.

4)      Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys:   Ed Bruce originally sang it, but Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson made this tale about the hard life of men in the old West famous. It is suggested that Mamas encourage their sons to become “doctors and lawyers and such” to avoid the loneliness of a life chasing cattle and horses around and wearing Levi’s. Not the worst advice I’ve heard.

5)      Mama Said Knock You Out: LL Cool J’s Mama told him to “knock out” all the critics who thought his career was over. That’s why he starts the song with “Don’t call it a comeback, I’ve been here for years”. His Mama believed in him all the way and he had a career renaissance after this song came out.  Though he’s now on that CSI show that doesn’t look very good.

So what’s the message from all these songs? It’s pretty simple: Mothers are inherently wise. Listen to them and you will thrive. Mine suggested I start writing again, so I listened to her and here we are. I will forever be grateful.

What Mother related songs do you love? 

Or what songs remind you of your Mother?