Happy Mothers Day!
Happy Mothers Day!
This is for all the Mama's.....and remember, even Dad's can be Mama's❤️
Mother's Day always filled my childhood with a special kind of magic. Before the sun even whispered good morning, I’d be tiptoeing around our sleepy house, excited by my plans. My mission was simple: to craft the perfect breakfast in bed for my mother, a cherished ritual born from her own tradition of making us feel like royalty when we were ill. Her white wicker tray and the delicate Limoges breakfast set would transform our bouts of flu into regal convalescences, the kind where you secretly hoped the illness lingered just a bit longer.
From as early as I can remember, Mother’s Day morning found me bustling in the kitchen by dawn’s early light. My task was to assemble a feast fit for a queen—buttered toast points, freshly snapped asparagus spears, and scrambled eggs riotous with chunks of hot dogs, diced onions, and cascades of melting American cheese. The kitchen would fill with the comforting aromas of sizzling onions and garlic, a scent that promised that something wonderful was about to unfold.
Once everything was prepared, I’d sternly instruct her to stay put with her New Yorker while I brewed her jasmine tea—a rare indulgence she savored. The final, most thrilling part was the dash to the garden. There, nestled among the whispering leaves, I’d search for her favorite bluebells, those delicate harbingers of spring given to her by her dear friend Louise. They seemed to bloom just for her, just for this day, no matter the weather.
Arranging these blooms in a tiny Waterford vase, I’d help my father carry the tray to where she lay, surrounded by fluffy pillows and a sprawling duvet covered with embroidered flowers. Her delight, her surprise—it was a joy undimmed by time. After savoring each bite, she'd sink into a leisurely bath, never a shower, before we embarked on our day's adventure, perhaps to a museum or a garden, continuing traditions with my son once he was born.
Sadly, as most of you know , a terrible stroke took her from us many years ago. I miss her terribly but we shared a really interesting life together. Every year since her passing on Mothers Day I wear Penhaligon’s beautiful “BlueBell”. Today I am going to the garden center to find myself another little patch of bluebells to plant in a wooded corner of my garden . Wherever today finds you, hug your mother and keep her close. If yours is gone like mine, find some way to honor her and like she did, enjoy your children and grandchildren madly!
When she died we scattered her ashes along the bend of the beautiful River Road, in the shade of a willow tree that sings continuously in the wind with her favorite silver bell and her Barack Obama button. That’s where I get to visit her…at Solstice we bring her eggnog and in a few hours I’ll bring her fresh flowers from my garden! I treasure those memories, especially today. It's a small act, but one deeply rooted in the love she shared. This Mother’s Day, as I remember her and the life we shared, I also reflect on her activism and her passion for Planned Parenthood and her unwavering support for every family’s right to care for themselves in the way that they needed. In her honor, I will be donating to this cause she held so dear.
My mother and I walked a thorny path together, our relationship often tangled like wild brambles. But time, with its gentle wisdom, has a way of softening the hardest edges. Now, as the years unfurl like the blooms of a late-blooming rose, I see the truth mirrored in the garden's reflection: I am much like her, the realization growing clearer with each season's turn. Just as I once laid the weight of our struggles at her doorstep, I now understand that my own hands were not without thorns. This recognition, delicate and profound, is among the most unexpected blossoms in the garden of my life and has given me back the gift of my mother.
How are you celebrating today? Tell me, and in honor of each story shared in my comments, I will make a small donation to Planned Parenthood. Here’s to a day filled with joy, reflection, and perhaps, the scent of bluebells on a gentle breeze.
Happy Mother’s Day to you all.
Leaving you with the best Mama’s day song ever! Warning though….You won’t be able to stop humming it.