The Mother's Day Gift

Last year for Mother’s Day, my daughter gave me a handmade clay bowl. It was one of those school art projects that students make every spring, with careful instructions from their teachers to create gifts truly worthy of their love and appreciation for the women who gave them life. Unfortunately, I wasn't exactly sure what to DO with a piece of misshapen pottery painted in flamboyant shades of pink and what I can only suspect is chartreuse, so the bowl now sits in my closet, collecting dust and holding the jewelry I never seem to wear.

I loved the gift of course (in the way that all mothers love the sloppy handmade creations we're so blessed to receive from our kids), but it turned out to be the box my Mother’s Day bowl arrived in that is actually the keepsake I’ll treasure forever.

It's a plain, brown, cardboard box – nothing special – but my daughter decorated it with hearts, and wrote my name on it, and shared a special, heartfelt message (complete with second-grade spelling), just for me. It says: “Somtimes you are meen. But I still love you.”

Not exactly a Hallmark card, I know. My initial reaction to this backhanded declaration of affection was to stifle a laugh, but I’ll admit that I cringed inwardly a bit too. Kids have a knack for hitting us where it hurts, and reminding us at the very moments when we’re trying to celebrate our successes (hello, Mother’s Day?) that we’ve got plenty of failures mixed in too.

She's right – sometimes, I am mean. Sometimes I yell, and sometimes I lose my temper. Sometimes I make her (gasp) clean her bedroom, or – when I’m feeling particularly evil – the bathroom toilets. I may be the mom, but even mothers, after all, are only human.

Fortunately, it turns out that Mother’s Day – at least as it was initially conceived – was never intended to glorify motherhood in the first place.

Founder Anna Jarvis envisioned a holiday that would honor and celebrate the sacrifices mothers make, but not one that would put us on pedestals and shower us with flowers, greeting cards, and insincere displays of affection. (Or, I’m guessing, school-made pottery.) I can think of plenty of gifts that I would enjoy receiving this year for Mother’s Day.

For instance, I wouldn’t turn down an all-inclusive resort vacation in the Bahamas. In lieu of that, I would certainly accept a massage, a champagne brunch, or the opportunity to occasionally hear myself think. A few hours alone to catch up on Mad Men would also suffice. But in the end (and those of you desperately shopping for Mom take note), we don’t really care about the stuff.

We don’t need an expensive meal or a delivery from 1-800-FLOWERS or a sentimental, store bought greeting card that somehow doesn't quite ring true. We DO, however, want to know that we’re genuinely appreciated, and that our sacrifices and sleepless nights haven’t gone entirely unnoticed. You may not realize this, but most of us struggle with endless guilt, constantly wondering if we’re doing enough for our children, and agonizing over the many imperfections we see in ourselves.

We’re doing our best, and we just want confirmation that our best is good enough. This is why moms appreciate hugs and sloppy kisses and genuine displays of affection over anything else you could possibly give us – and why we treasure those handmade cards and not-so-artistic art projects that are always made with such loving care.

It's also precisely why I’ve decided to keep my brown cardboard box forever. We don’t get too many people in our lives who still love us even when they've seen us at our worst, and while my daughter’s Mother’s Day message may have been unconventional, in its own unique way, it was also a declaration of her unconditional love.

Even when I’m “meen,” she STILL kind of likes me. And having a daughter who loves and appreciates me despite my flaws? That's a gift that is absolutely priceless.