Hello ladies. I am posting this Mother’s Day message early because I know that this Sunday many of you will be busy going to brunch or dinner, or maybe both. With your busy Sunday, reading my blog will be the last thing on your mind. I don’t take offense. Family first, right?
I am also posting this early because I will be out of the country on vacay this weekend. Hurray for me! My friends with multiple international stamps in their passports tell me that WEE-FEE, I mean Wi-Fi, reliability cannot always be trusted on foreign soil, and I really want as many mothers to read my post as possible. So read it, por favor, and pass it on. Thanks….
“‘Thank You.” Those words do not come out of my mouth often enough, and when they do, sometimes they are just a formality. “Be polite, and always say thank you” mothers often advise.
I want all mothers out there to know that when I say “thank you” today, in this post, I mean it. Your nurture deserves more than a thank you, but because I am not “Oprah rich”, I cannot give you all a car, an i-pad, a spa day, or charter a private plane and send you on a tropical vacation. For now, I ask that my thanks suffices.
I want to thank all mothers. I thank the poverty-stricken, inner city mother, who uses public transportation to go everywhere, in all weather, and never allows her weary body, empty stomach, or sore feet to stop her from doing what she feels is best for her children.
I thank the middle class mother, who drives everywhere for her children. She takes them to this practice and that practice. Practice, practice, practice. Those never-ending practices. She drives them to school, and then after school activities. The activities, like practices, are never-ending too, but she doesn’t complain. She drives them to play dates. She is always in a rush. I call them “Starbucks Mothers”. All they need is some caffeine and a bagel, and they can go all day. Nothing can stop them, not even speed bumps in the road.
I thank the wealthy mothers. I thank them for teaching their children that money does not define a person, and that they should have friends of all socio-economic backgrounds. I thank the wealthy mother who hosts events for her children and her children’s peers at her home, and she makes sure everything goes just right. She is polite to everyone. She is classy and courteous without effort, because it is what she is.
I thank the equator mother. You don’t know what an equator mother is? It is a mother who works under the hot ass sun, for pennies an hour, in some foreign country that is “equator hot” because it is on the equator. Some of those countries are Indonesia, Ecuador, Columbia, and Brazil. One of those countries is Somalia.
I served in Somalia with the Marines in 1992. I remember it was hot as hell. I guess you can call it “Africa Hot”, because Somalia is on the continent of Africa. We were in Somalia on a humanitarian mission. The country and ocean ports were being controlled by warlords. Water and food was scarce. In street terms, we were there to “regulate shit”. (Sorry for the curse word mothers, it’s for effect).
I remember seeing mothers in Somalia walk long, and I mean l-o-n-g, distances to get water and basic food for their children, under the hot sun. If you are wondering why they wouldn’t just walk in the evening or at night, when it was cooler instead, that is a good wonder. Well, let’s just say that bullets flew everywhere at night. Walking at night was not an option. So during the day, they would walk miles and miles with a smile even. Many of the women would be walking carrying a baby on one side, and water and edible goods on the other. I would stare at them, and couldn’t help but wonder what would become of them and their children once the Marines left.
I thank mothers of all skin tones. From the melanin rich mothers, to the melanin deficient mothers, who produce children of all skin tones.
I thank the Caucasian mother who adopts a child that is not of her ethnicity, skin tone, etc. Her and her husband adopt that child and love him like he is biologically theirs. One of those adopted children is Colin Kaepernick, he is pictured below with his parents.
He is also the starting quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers.
And for anyone wondering if his parents knew he would turn out to be a great athlete, probably not. He was adopted at 5 weeks old. But I am sure he was fast as hell early on, even in diapers.
I want to thank all mothers who adopt, and love and nurture their adopted children, like most mothers love and nurture their own biological children.
I want to thank the Latin American mothers who come to this country legally and illegally. They don’t know the language, customs, or their way around, but they come and work. They doggedly work as house maids, hotel maids, cooks, dish-washers, and some sell flowers and fresh fruit on highway exits. They do other jobs too. I believe the correct way to say it is, “They are in the service sector of the U.S. economy”.
My mother came here from El Salvador in the late 1960’s. She came here legally with a work-visa and then became a citizen. She busted her rear end cleaning homes for people. For 30 years or so she pushed vacuums and mopped floors, cleaned bathrooms and washed dishes in nice homes. Even throughout her battle with cancer, she worked cleaning homes and she never complained. Her body finally gave in to cancer and its medications on March 31, 2007.
I never got to thank my mother for everything she did for me when I was young. In addition to the house work she did in other peoples homes, she did house work in our home too, including cooking healthy meals, and often on the same day. Where she got that energy, I have no idea. She cooked and cleaned, and my clothes were always spotless and ironed. She was a “Starbucks Mother” before Starbucks existed. Below is a picture of my mother and my sister in about 1979.
My sister is all grown up now, with a beautiful and energetic daughter of her own. Happy Mother’s Day sister.
I want to thank all you mothers out there for everything you have done for your children, and for everything you will continue to do. I wish you a Happy Mother’s Day too. I do not wish you a Happy Mother’s Day because it is customary, I wish it because I mean it, I really do. I know sometimes we, as your children, forget to say “Thank you mother, for everything you do”, but I hope that my words are a reminder that we, your children, have not forgotten how strong, special, and giving you are. You give so much of yourselves, wanting nothing in return. I have an idea, why don’t you start a fashion trend. Go buy a t-shirt and have “ALTRUISTIC” embroidered across the front, in hot pink of course. I bet you even Angelina Jolie will wear one.
My mothers name was Rosa. In her honor, I give you this rose. I hope that as you read this, on some spiritual highway that interlinks all mothers, my belated thanks reaches and touches my mother wherever she may be. Because only mothers truly understand what other mothers go through in raising children. The rest of us can only wonder. HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY.