Beignet Day
I don’t know where the idea to celebrate holidays originated with saying “Happy (blank).” Was it Hallmark? However it started, I think some holidays for some don’t begin and end with happy. I don’t mean to be a downer, people, I really don’t. But it has become increasingly clear to me that sometimes the “Happy” set people up for, well, unhappiness. An unintended way that loss is underlined for some, in one way or another. If I could replace “Happy Mother’s Day” with something, I wonder what it might be. Would it be “At Peace Day,” or “Know You Matter, Too, Day”? Or “You’re Fine Just As You Are Day” ? So far I haven’t landed on one that seems right. Let me know if you come up with something.
We want to thank and honor our moms today. I get it. My mom, Jean Ciarolla, deserves it, bigly. She’s the woman who chose to be my mom on the spur of the moment ‘cause she had open eyes and an open heart. She saw and smelled the quite literally homeless and smelly little pipsqueak I was. For that alone she deserves every honor I can imagine bestowing. I have a most excellent mother-in-law, Sandy. Don’t even get me started on her and the quality of woman she is. I have had a chance to be a mom to two children, Joey and Cassie. My heart never knew what was coming, there. And now, as of two months ago, I became grammy pammy. I look at his pictures to the point of ridiculous.
If you haven’t seen Louie Anderson as Christine Baskets on Fx’s show, “Baskets,” do yourself a favor. As much as I can’t stop looking at my grandson, Brooksy’s photos, when I watch Baskets, I can’t take my eyes off of Louie as Christine, either. I don’t get how he completely nails being a mom—a real mom. It’s 25% heartbreakingly funny, and 75% heartbreaking. If I had to figure out the percentages of what it’s like to be a mom, I’d have to get back to you on that. It varies.
I saw a social media post this morning that sort of gave a head’s up about Mother’s Day. It originated with a post from last night, on the eve of Mother’s Day, by the writer, Jen Hatmaker. It included a graphic of a heart that said, “Maybe stay home tomorrow.” The point was, maybe don’t set yourself up tomorrow to see what you might be missing. Do what’s good for you, tomorrow. Don’t let the glaring light of “Happy Mother’s Day” hurt your eyes.
For as many reasons as there are women, today might not be happy, it might hurt. Maybe just keep that awareness in your heart today, too, as you may be celebrating. If you’re in church with all your big and little babies sitting on that same pew, or if you’re at brunch at a big table laughing, drinking Prosecco, gobbling powdery beignets to hold you over before the macadamia nut pancakes arrive. Look around you, love around you.
I’m not trying to ban Mother’s Day, because moms are generally selfless superhero rock stars. You deserve every last beignet. And I don’t know what your percentages are today—regardless if you’re a mom, long to be a mom, didn’t long to be a mom, didn’t have a mom, are mad at your mom, lost a mom, lost a child, miss a child, I hope you do feel honored for all the moments you have lived and loved, had eyes and heart wide open for the little, stinky pipsqueaks around you, whether they called you mom or not.
Let yourself feel some love and warmth today. Maybe go out for a walk, put on some shades, and let the heavenly, holy sunshine not hurt your eyes.