agreed: Paradoxically, it seems as if the unrelenting attention teetering on adulation of all things Mother once a year is demeaning, even dehumanizing. And it’s limiting, siloing the value of a person–typically a woman–to the mother-role. Green was my mother's color, too. What we know for sure. What we surmise. These are the conditions of our stories.
While my grandmother was alive, my mother used to send her a flowery Mother’s Day letter every year. Grandma kvelled over these letters, which sounded nothing like my mother and had become a painful obligation. My mother was a fine writer who tried and failed to write the truth about her mother’s controlling, suffocating love. Mother’s Day makes me squirm. Thank you for your honesty.
Hello Nancy, I love the approach you took to this piece. It's sharp and ot the point. I read somewhere that the woman who fought for a day to be recognized for mothers, after a few years fought to have it deleted. It was not her idea whatsoever. But I never fully got the point of it all. I vowed never to be a mother for all the reasons you say, a confining role that many are not called to. I became a mother late in life - 37. I remember the grapefruit diets, the scales, the mirrors, the diet pills for women to fit an image. It's a painful trap that so many of us are or were challenged by. Great piece. Thank you for your perspective.
I so agree, enough already! Enjoyed learning about you and your mom. Mine isn't warm and fuzzy either, and has cut me out for publishing the book. Even though I agree, enough! I am writing a personal about the difference between the relationship and the bond....
Another good piece showing another bit of you. I also considered those NYT questions, so interesting. We both may have complicated relationships with mothers and motherhood, but we have a friend who’s mother was so withholding she left home in her teens. She had 3 children and now 3 grandchildren, and her greatest joy and fun was and still is playing with them and expressing her creativity thereby delighting all. Go figure.
agreed: Paradoxically, it seems as if the unrelenting attention teetering on adulation of all things Mother once a year is demeaning, even dehumanizing. And it’s limiting, siloing the value of a person–typically a woman–to the mother-role. Green was my mother's color, too. What we know for sure. What we surmise. These are the conditions of our stories.
Thank you. The conditions of our stories.
While my grandmother was alive, my mother used to send her a flowery Mother’s Day letter every year. Grandma kvelled over these letters, which sounded nothing like my mother and had become a painful obligation. My mother was a fine writer who tried and failed to write the truth about her mother’s controlling, suffocating love. Mother’s Day makes me squirm. Thank you for your honesty.
Rona, thank you for understanding.
Hello Nancy, I love the approach you took to this piece. It's sharp and ot the point. I read somewhere that the woman who fought for a day to be recognized for mothers, after a few years fought to have it deleted. It was not her idea whatsoever. But I never fully got the point of it all. I vowed never to be a mother for all the reasons you say, a confining role that many are not called to. I became a mother late in life - 37. I remember the grapefruit diets, the scales, the mirrors, the diet pills for women to fit an image. It's a painful trap that so many of us are or were challenged by. Great piece. Thank you for your perspective.
I so agree, enough already! Enjoyed learning about you and your mom. Mine isn't warm and fuzzy either, and has cut me out for publishing the book. Even though I agree, enough! I am writing a personal about the difference between the relationship and the bond....
Yes, the difference between the relationship and the bond. I'll be very interested to read what you write.
Another good piece showing another bit of you. I also considered those NYT questions, so interesting. We both may have complicated relationships with mothers and motherhood, but we have a friend who’s mother was so withholding she left home in her teens. She had 3 children and now 3 grandchildren, and her greatest joy and fun was and still is playing with them and expressing her creativity thereby delighting all. Go figure.
Exactly. Go figure.
Nancy, I learned so much about your mother from this essay. So very touching. Thank you for writing this and sharing.
Thank you.