“Hi honey, I thought I’d give you a call. Wondering where you are and I’ll talk to you soon. OK, bye-bye honey.”
Even though I am thousands of miles away from my mother right now, this voicemail teleports me straight home. It doesn’t matter how old I am, just hearing my mother’s voice brings a comforting reassurance with the sheer normality of it. Immediately followed by a pang of guilt as I realize that it’s Mother’s Day.
To be clear, my mother hates Mother’s Day. I guess it’s the forced fun of it. The very notion that a lifetime of dedicated service and unconditional love could be boiled down to just a single day out of the year. But today, she can’t stop me from celebrating her — and all of the other mothers out there — with a smattering of the best lessons she taught me.
Put on some lipstick.
To this day, my mom never leaves the house without lipstick and she’s always insisted that my sister and I do the same. It just makes you feel better, she’d say. Some years back, I had to have some surgery on my face that left me looking a little like Frankenstein’s monster. I decided to embrace it and put on some bright red lipstick. As usual, Mom was right.
Make do.
My mother lost her father at a very young age and my grandmother had to work full-time to support the family. While they didn’t have much, my mother never felt like anything was lacking. So, she says that making do is about living life as it happens and making the best of it. You don’t need everything to be perfect. Just do the best you can.
Put on your own oxygen mask first.
This doesn’t just apply when there’s a sudden drop in cabin pressure. For my mom, it also meant tending to your own sense of wellbeing. I think this was why she put her relationship with my father first. If all was well there, that love would naturally pass on to us kids.
Food is love.
My mother is the classic Italian food-pusher. I used to resent it, but now I understand what it was really all about. Food is a way of expressing love and joy and hospitality. It’s a way for us to share a tradition. To create a memory. To be together.
The golden rolodex.
My sister and brother and I always joke that our mother was born with a golden rolodex in her brain. Mention a random acquaintance to her and she’ll immediately begin accessing the mental files. “Wait! Did you say Joe Schmidt? I wonder if he’s any relation to the Schmidts who used to live next door to us on Lawndale Terrace?” We roll our eyes at our mother’s need to make the connection. But making connections is all about finding community wherever we are. And I admit that I find myself doing the same thing whenever I meet someone new.
Go in the deep end.
When my father bought a sailboat in the ’80s, my mother realized she’d have to face her darkest, lifelong fear — the water. So at age 38, she took swimming lessons. Showing us you’re never too old to try something new. Or to dive head-first into the deep end.
Call your mother.
Years ago, my father scrawled these words on a piece of paper and tacked it on the fridge as a reminder for my mom to call her mom. My father and grandmother have since passed, but I am now the keeper of this note. It reminds me every day of the preciousness of time with those we love.
Wear the feather boa.
Since the ’70s, my mother has had a collection of feather boas that would make RuPaul envious. She stores them in pillowcases in her closet and still rocks them on occasion. No matter where you are or what you’re doing, it never hurts to bring some fabulous to the party.
Just eat it!
My mother always encouraged us to try everything. She hated it when we’d ask what something was. Or what was in it. Or how she made it. She couldn’t endure picky eaters. Don’t ask so many questions. Just eat it!
Keep busy.
Today, when I call my mother and ask what she’s up to, she gives me her standard answer: keeping busy. I love to tease her about this phrase. But in reality, I admire this ability immensely. To her, keeping busy is the equivalent of living your best life right now. To paraphrase a line from The Shawshank Redemption, you have about 86,400 seconds each day and it’s up to you how you live them. My mother shows me every day how important it is to get busy living.