Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day in France even if it's two weeks late for Americans.

Mother's Day is important to me even if I know that it's a big marketing scam, pushing us all to buy flowers and jewelery and perfume. But being a mother is a unique experience that deserves celebration. I imagine that most of those who criticize this holiday have never had a poem recited to them by a six-year-old or received a macaroni necklace.

As a mother of three teenagers, this year is different. There will be no poems and there might not have been anything at all had I not made sure they'd remember. They are all caught up in their own lives, now, and I admit feeling left aside.

My sixteen-year-old is deeply in love, drawing up memories for me of what it was like to be that in love, to get the butterflies-in-the-belly-sensation when that person looks into your eyes. I hope she enjoys it. We all know it only happens for short periods of time.

Her story has brought back a huge rush of memories of my first love and loves, and made me a bit melancholic. When one day, they had gotten in a fight and he'd broken up, I cried with her. It just brought back so many feelings of heart break that I couldn't hold back the tears. But then, the following day, when he texted her to make up, I shared her joy, and I still remember the flush in her cheeks.

Last weekend, one of my twins, Elisia, competed in the national finals on her gymnastics team. Watching her in front of huge crowds and hoards of judges made me live through it with her. I recalled competing as a cheerleader (don't laugh, cheerleaders do compete) and how terrified I was that I might mess up the routine for the whole squad. We won the trophey that year, and hugged and cried together. Elisia won the bronze medal last weekend. She has much more to be proud of than I do, of course. Her team is the third best in the country. But I know what it was like to work hard at something, to practice over and over again, and to feel what it was like to be on a team, working together at something and then succeeding together.


I guess that's what makes being a mom so special. You get to relive the best and the worst of your life by sharing the experiences of your children as they face the same types of experiences.

But being a mom is also feeling needed, and that sentiment is slowly disappearing. My other twin daughter, Charleen, just returned from Germany where she stayed with her penpal's family for a week. She was quite thrilled with her stay there, and particularly pleased by the girl's mother who was funny and nice and a great cook. Charleen brought back the most adorable cupcakes to prove this. They were part of an enormous pack lunch that she hadn't even been able to finish on the bus ride home.

Since her return, I've made cupcakes twice and yesterday, I made raspberry pancakes for breakfast, then orange cinammon muffins, peanut butter and chocolat cookies, rissotto,... Okay, okay, I was just a little jealous!

I remind myself that you only get one mom. I'm theirs and they love me, even if I buy myself too many clothes, make all kinds of silly mistakes when I speak French, and don't always take the time to make incredible cakes and meals. I know they love me and that they've probably bought me something special like a new blouse or necklace from my favorite boutique, but I really would have prefered a macaroni necklace and a badly recited poem. The one thing you can't do is bring back the years. You have to live each day for what it is. It's eleven o'clock and Elisia just woke up. The first thing she did was feel her way downstairs to my computer, all groggy and groany like a teenager should be in the "morning" on a Sunday. But she managed to force her exhausted self down here to wish me a happy mother's day. I'm still her mom, will always be, and I love being a mother every day because every day is made more special because of their place in my life.

So today, I'm going to enjoy every minute with them.