Pre-Mother’s Day Musings

(Last summer with Mother)

It is an overcast morning in formerly “sunny” Southern California today. Grey clouds and a chance of “drizzles” will continue through tomorrow and Monday. Just perfect, I say with sarcasm. My mother will be arriving tomorrow to spend the dreary days in my abode that, at its best, is one cold non-insulated barn in anything less-than-80-degree-plus weather.

As the years go by, my mother has become increasingly sensitive to cold environments, and when visiting me in the cooler months, complains about it on every chilly visit. I wrap her in warm throws, turn the heat up to tropical degrees, then slink away from the thermostat after yet another shivering comment of “I’m freezing” choking from her vocal chords. Poor baby, she'll have to go through all of this once again.

Timing IS everything. Until yesterday, it had been a week of high temp’s in the area. I spent most of the heat wave at home in shorts, brief tops and thatch-woven thongs. My mother would have been in her element. But Noooooo. She will have to experience another artic expedition to the city of Angels while I will be in a quiet battle with the home’s owner over the higher-than-usual use of heat for the two and a half days of her visit.

The positive part of the inevitable downside is that I am fortunate to have a mother who is not only nearby, but still zipping around in a car and not yet in need of a walker. In fact, she buzzes through her life with the determination and energy of the best social coordinator I know.

Although she moved to this state years ago at an age when it isn’t easy to begin anew with only a few friends at the beginning, within a year she was involved with several local charities, clubs, and at least 4 different groups who love to play cards and board games. Before I knew it, there she was – in her local paper on a float in a parade waving to the crowds as a rep from one of the organizations to which she belonged.

Next, there was another picture in the paper of her with others in various attire for a Senior Fashion Show. She loves to dress up and waltz around in pretty things. You GO, Mother! (Not allowed to call her “Mom” – it’s a long story……)

I love that my mother remains busy, involved in her community no matter where it may be, and that she retains a youthful spirit. She and I have had our rocky times over the years; however, the so-called wisdom of age and being an only child tends to soften the edginess of dissent on both sides of our DNA coin. The truce on her end could be that she has resigned herself to my tendency to not be a carbon copy of her in most ways other than physical hereditary and a tendency toward perfectionism in our environments.

On my end, I’ve come to the realization that she is capable of being not only a mother but a friend to me…as am I to her now that she has decided to be open to my pointers on how to handle harpy older women. And wow – there are lots of those devious old crones licking their cracked lips to diss on whoever didn’t show up to a meeting or event. It turns out my advice is helping...which is great!
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But on to a slightly amusing Mother’s Day story. It’s helpful that she has now grown to prefer my cooking for the special dinner rather than going out. It adds a lovely personal touch to the day, and then, on the following Monday, we go out for lunch after a round of shopping. This arrangement is working.


At one time, however, I preferred to make reservations at unique/special restaurants where we would meet with other friends and their mothers, or go off on our own. Not now. Not for the last 4 years.

One Mother’s Day that sealed the deal for me to begin cooking for her (whether at my abode or at hers) brought into focus the reality of our enormous differences in what she deems important. Reservations at a high-end French restaurant for a multiple course brunch with the typical champagne and/or Mimosa’s-until-you-drop refills in place were made weeks in advance.

Our previous dining experiences at similar restaurants over the years had always been met with appreciation and glee, as by chance we would be seated near the table of one of her favorite film stars, which truly added to her vicarious happiness.

Thus, the latest choice in place was equally refined with a menu filled with my favorites as well as hers. A double-win, right? Not so fast. As each course was brought to the table, my mother would pick at the elegantly crafted food display until finally telling me she was “too full” to continue and handed the little plates to me to finish.

Puzzled at how such small portions of fish and greens would bring about her inability to finish anything, I inquired if she simply didn’t care for the food. No, she loved it, she said, then admitted she had stopped by one of her favorite chain restaurants earlier for a hefty breakfast before striking out on the road to meet up with me.

Hmmmm, I thought. Why did she do that? I gathered she had forgotten about the 4 course late brunch I had planned for her pleasure, and continued on enjoying my dishes until it was time to pay the enormous bill and then exit. (She did have the dessert, to her credit. At least she had room for that – somehow.)

As we waited for the valet to bring the car, I sensed something was awry and asked what was bothering her. In an almost grumpy tone, she hissed, “DENNY’s gave carnations to all of the mothers today. It’s disgusting that this place had no flowers to give whatsoever!”

DENNY’s vs. an elegant atmosphere, exquisite food, classical music in the background, attentive waiters, a window seat….. ??? But no flowers for the Mother’s! How dare they!

Well then, between the almost horror I felt at her comparison of DENNY’s to the chic bistro and the irony of it all, it was then that I gave up on celebrating Mother’s day in restaurants. I don’t eat at her fav chain restaurant for a thousand reasons, and she knows it. None of the other restaurants we had gone to in the past had provided flowers. But good old DENNY’s did and THAT, my friends, is all that mattered to my mother despite the bouquet of roses I had presented to her when she walked through my front door a few hours earlier.

Pleasing our mother’s, providing what they enjoy, is the spirit of Mother’s Day. Although mine does enjoy events at the Ritz Carlton and other linen-covered table haunts with groups, who in the world could compete with how special she felt at a chain restaurant because they gave her a carnation! Only me cooking almost the same foods we had at the non-flower-giving bistro seems to have the upper hand in bringing a smile to my mother’s face. And I make sure she gets more than one carnation when the dinner is over.

Live and learn……