Mother's Day

I don't want to sound like a whiny snot or an idiot, though I will, so I'll just accept it now. I do not understand how Mother's Day works now that I am a mother.

I mean, I get the call your mom part.

But when it comes to me, as a mother, I don't get it. Here specifically is what I don't get:

When your pregnant, everyone and their brother, especially anyone who is bound to get a promotion in relationship (as in grandparent or great-grandparent or aunt etc) calls and tells you Happy Mother's day. They even send small gifts of jewelry or nice cards or flowers.

Then you become an actual mother by delivering the child. Your husband is very sweet to you, especially if you're breastfeeding every hour still, because he is dumbfounded that you haven't actually put your child down since it was born. Except that briefest of five minutes for a hot shower when you insisted on washing your hair. Also, your best friend or sister tells you Happy Mother's Day, and all your friends that happen to be mothers say Happy Mother's Day as well as tell you what a great mom you are. You do the same to them (and you do mean it -you're not just saying it to stay in the club).

But the people who the year before sent small gifts and flowers? Your own mother or grandmother, not to mention mother-in-law and so on?

Nothing.

Not even a "And same to you" when you tell them Happy Mother's Day on your obligatory fire prevention phone call you do every year so that you don't spend your summer with a sulking and bitter mother.

As my 18 month old son says with accompanying hand motion, what gives?

Does it just work to the generation up with exceptions made when you're pregnant? So until I die, I will be telling my mother and mother-in-law happy mother's day and they never have to say it to me?

This is where I realize that no matter how old I get or how enlightened or how many yoga poses I master, when it comes to my relationship with my own mothers (actual, in-law, what have you) I am still 13 years old. I hate this. I hate being that woman who in all ways feels smart, accomplished and happy with her life, but inside, is still a 13 year old who wants approval. Not even the full stamp of approval like they do to beef in the supermarket, but just a half a sentence from one of the mothers saying happy mother's day. Oh, and they think I am a terrific mom, because my son is an utter delight to be around. Because he is.

My husband tells me often I am a great mom. And I think I am, not because I like to brag, but I do think I am a good mom to my son. He is a happy, sweet, smart, funny and all around awesome little boy, and I don't think he would be if I wasn't. He also hugs me often, which I think means he likes me.

I know, I know. Even as I have that voice in my head protesting, "Would it kill ya to wish me a nice mother's day?" I know, this is reward enough.

As always, in these icky-I-feel-like-a-bitch-but-I-do-kind-of-have-an-issue-here moments, I think (because I'm a mom and it's what moms do) what would I tell my son if it were him? And of course, I'd tell him approval be damned. Or in the words of my Thai fortune teller: the people who love you and understand you, love you and understand you. The people who love you and don't understand you, don't understand you.

So I'll just meditate on that as I strike a yoga pose.