There is a heated debate going on over at Times and Seasons about how to make Mother’s Day better.  I don’t want to poach the topic, but I did want to send you here, an article I read in the Smithsonian about the inventor of Mother’s Day, and what her original intent was in creating this holiday.  Ironically, she spent her entire life trying to undo what she had done, simply because she felt that something as sacred as honoring mothers had turned into something cheap and commercial. 

She has a point.

Still, I actually like the cards, the flowers, the candy.  Call me a materialistic sucker, but when somebody bothers to send me a card, I still feel loved.  Emails–well, not so much.  Something about coughing up 41 cents (yes, they’ve upped the postage again!) for a stamp and a buck fifty for a card actually says to me, “I care”. 

And I like the look of fresh flowers, no matter where they came from, or why I got them.  In fact, I’m getting huge amounts of pleasure from the wild flowers I picked from the side of the road today (highly illegal, I’m sure, but hey, nothing says, “Don’t mess me with me” like a huge 9 month pregnant belly protruding three feet in front of you)and stuck in a vase with some holly greens from my tree in my front yard.  I threw in some iris from my garden, too, and voila, you’ve got color where there was none before.

Perhaps I’m just a cheap date at heart.

Anyway, despite the hoopla, the extra buckage Hallmark makes every year on million’s of childrens’ guilt, and the need for extra mail trucks that weekend (I know this because I watch Seinfeld.  That Newman is just a FONT of good information.  Or is it ‘fount’?), I still think that the holiday Anna Jarvis created basically accomplishes what she had originally hoped for–a day when people actually take a second to thank the women in their lives who make the world go ’round. 

Yes, there is a lot of pain associated with motherhood, ranging from women who can’t have children, women who have lost children, and children who are forced to praise or acknowledge a mother who has created nothing but misery in their lives.  I’ve felt it, and I’ve known others who have felt it. But for those of us who have been blessed with the good fortune of being able to take our fanstastic mothers for granted, I say “You go, Anna” to the woman who made this day possible.

So bring on the schmaltzy cards, and pass the chocolate.  And if you got an extra carnation somewhere, I’ll take that, too.