…yet though you dance in living light, I am the earth, I am the root, I am the stem that fed the fruit, the link that joins you to the night. ~ Judith Wright from ‘Woman to Child’
This year my Facebook page was awash with Mother’s Day message for at least three days beforehand: pictures of flower arrangements, special meals, loving salutations and heartfelt homages to mothers in general and our own mothers in particular.
Mother’s Day, like any festive day in the Philippines, is HUGE. And, doubtless with calculated forethought, the general election has tied in nicely with this Mother’s Day weekend, to ensure workers in Manila can go home to the provinces to vote not only for new leaders, but for the world’s best mum.
Mothers have been celebrated throughout history. The Greeks worshipped the mother goddess Cybele. In the UK, Mothering Sunday was originally a regional custom adopted by the Church of England in the 17th century as a worthy vernacular celebration that could be linked to the Virgin Mary and the Mother Church.
In the early 20th century, Anna Jarvis of Philadelphia held a memorial for her mother and subsequently began to campaign for a national Mother’s Day. She specifically noted that ‘Mother’s’ should be a singular possessive, for each family to honour its own mother, not a plural possessive commemorating all mothers in the world. By the 1920s, it had been universally adopted and post-World War II it gained further success as a commercial marketing tool, since when it has gone from strength to strength.
In some countries the date has been altered to fit in with local religious observances, such as Virgin Mary Day in Catholic countries, or Bolivia’s Mother’s Day which is celebrated on 27 May to commemorate the Battle of La Coronilla. This took place during the Bolivian War of Independence in 1812, when many women fought for the country’s independence and were slaughtered by the Spanish Army. China and some ex-communist countries usually celebrate the socialist International Women’s Day on March 8, rather than the capitalist Mother’s Day. In Thailand, Mother’s Day is celebrated on 12th August, the birthday of Queen Sirikit. In Ethiopia, Antrosht is a feast day honouring motherhood held on an unfixed date at the end of the rainy season.
My own mother refused to allow us to acknowledge it, especially once the day was disassociated from Mothering Sunday, claiming it was invented by Hallmark, purely commercial and therefore not worthy. It has indeed, become highly commercial, as the Filipino shopping malls will verify, but certainly no worse than Christmas or Valentine’s Day.
And I can’t help feeling that anything that reminds us to acknowledge and appreciate our partners, families, friends or even teachers, is not such a bad thing. While we never made much of it either, with our own children, I am forever grateful to the teachers who provided memories of handmade cards covered in wonky hearts (cut out with small clumsy fingers) or coloured handprints like autumn leaves . Cooling tea and Vegemite on cold, damp toast may hardly have been a gastronomic feast, but the effort put in by eager-to-please, Hobbit-sized children will always be appreciated, and I suddenly find it is more about the sweet memories Mother’s-Day-Past has left me with, as opposed to any sense of smug worthiness. This year my teenage boys cooked a three course dinner for eleven, with the help of three mates and a guitar all scrunched into our less-than-spacious kitchen. What’s more, they all helped with the washing up. A gift indeed! And what have these memories to do with commercialism?
My One & Only’s best memory – so well, and so often told, I feel I must have been there – was the acquisition of a chopping board for his domestically-uninspired mother, nonetheless acclaiming her “World’s Best Mother” by a nonjudgmental son. Some years later, it would break in half across his bottom, wielded by that same ‘World’s Best Mother,’ undoubtedly driven to distraction by her troublesome teenager. Well, we all have those imperfect moments!
A friend posted an article on Facebook entitled ‘Why I Hate Mother’s Day.’ The writer, the Scrooge of all days of celebration apparently, ridicules the sentimentalization of Mother’s Day – what a word! – designed to make children feel obligated to buy presents and mothers to feel inadequate. Well, bah, humbug to her, I say! It is all in how you perceive it. For me, it is not about gifts or flowery words, duty or expectation; it is a day to focus on family. At our house, as the children get older, busier, and increasingly independent, we too rarely seem to find the time to be together. For me, it should not be about perfection or failure, inadequacy, complacence, or ‘Superior Beings’ as Ms. Scrooge suggests, it is simply an opportunity to hug your mum and to love her, warts and all. If your mother really was the Wicked Witch of the West, buy yourself a bottle of bubbles and celebrate your survival!
For the rest of us, it is one day in the year to remember your mother and to allow her the chance to celebrate her children in return. It is an opportunity to think of someone other than yourself and acknowledge that, for better or worse, your mother played a role in making you into the person you are today. If nothing else, she gave birth to you, and while that may be a natural function, it is still one hell of a gift that you can’t buy in a shopping mall!