May 12, 1991

You can probably guess what this one's about...at least in the United States, anyway

May 11, 2024

On this day

A quick search of the On This Day website gives only one historical tidbit for May 12, 1991: a new cancer drug has been discovered. Unfortunately, it could only be found in the “bark of a rare tree in the Pacific Northwest.” Also unfortunately, it and other cancer treatments were not discovered in time to help either my grandfather, who had died two months before, or my cousin, who would die in December, leaving behind three daughters.

May 12, 1991 also happened to be Mother’s Day. It’s a holiday that can be complicated for many people, including those who have lost a mother, those with strained mother-child relationships, and also mothers themselves. I include myself in that last number. Motherhood by adoption is complex at best, even when adoption is, as it was for me, a woman’s first choice in expanding her family. I may not mourn infertility and pregnancy loss as some adoptive mothers do, but I do try to witness and accompany my children as they process the reality that I am the second or even third woman they have called “Mom”. Some years this has meant stepping back from this holiday; always it has meant following my children’s lead, though I admit I learned that the hard way.

As you probably guessed, Ruth writes about Mother’s Day this week as well. I haven’t counted them up, but I think it’s probably a tie among Christmas, Mother’s Day, and October colors when it comes to the times of year she writes about most. I had so many columns to choose from, in fact, that I decided just to narrow it down by date alone—Mother’s Day in 1991 happened on May 12, as it will in 2024.

Practicality aside, I enjoyed revisiting this one. I appreciate how Ruth understood that motherhood is sometimes complicated and always evolving, even as it is a source of joy.

By Ruth Dennis

It’s Mother’s Day again.

I have been a mother since a mid-November day in 1945 and I will always be a mother even though my sons are grown with families of their own. It is more than a title or name—it is an ever changing role.

There is really no prescribed course in motherhood that can prepare you for all the pain that comes with the job and title. So many times I wished for just a few hours of a “crash course” in this new role. I not only read the child-rearing guides but I even took suggestions from my mother-in-law in those first months. Then it occurred to me: this was a position with on-the-job training—training that never stops, not even now.1

There are no written words to equal the exquisite joy when the first-born says “mama” for the first time or takes those first faltering steps. And nothing prepares you for the exasperation when this same child, in answer to your call to get ready to go visit, shows up barefoot and cannot remember where he shed is only pair of shoes. (They were found in the garden across the creek and we were only a half-hour late.)

And so it went—those first years when the children were small. There were frightening trips to the hospital with a very sick little boy. There was the overwhelming joy when that same little boy said his first “piece” at the Christmas program and never missed a word. There was the flurry to get everyone off to school when the bus arrived, almost always with a last minute scurry for a book, sneakers, or something equally vital. This was followed by the return of the school bus and those words, “Hi Mom, we’re home. Any cookies?”

The workplace for a mother is not only every room in the home, but also outdoors in the yard or playground and then in the school. Being a mother became a “spectator sport” during basketball season. I was told more than once, “please Mom, don’t yell quite so loud.”2

At one time I added “den” as a prefix to my title of mother as I planned projects for the weekly invasion of the Cub Scout Pack. I learned about the Future Farmers of America and was even named an honorary charter member. I learned about being a 4-H parent, which involved helping and guiding, and then letting the boy groom and show his calf by himself.

Then came a period when I, like so many others, felt like “the peanut butter in the sandwich” as I juggled not only family and job responsibilities but the needs of a teenager and an aging parent. There were times when the tensions reduced my sense of personal identity.3

The situations changed as it does for almost everyone with time. The aging parent died and the last boy was in college. There I was with a good case of “empty nest syndrome.”

Laughter and tears, pride and worry—these are given to all mothers as they watch their children grow. Almost too fast these children are graduating from college, getting married, moving away.

Being a mother, however, is never a static role. Before I knew it I had some new titles like mother-in-law and “Grandma.”4

I watch events repeat themselves only this time I am not one of the principal players in the family situation. There are temper tantrums, chicken pox, birthday parties, and so much more. But now another mother is dealing with these situations and I can view them almost as I would a TV sitcom rerun. That is until that moment when a daughter-in-law asks for a suggestion.

Even as my maternal role is redefined by the years, I remain a mother for each of my three sons whom I still call “my boys.” I know being a mother is a life-time job and I don’t have to worry about contract renewals.

So while this Mother’s Day will be a time for me to honor my mother and to remember my mother-in-law, it is also an occasion for me to celebrate. I rejoice that I am a Mother.

-----

Dennis, of Jasper, is a columnist for The Spectator.

Rural Reflections - The Reboot

Discussion about this post