Will wonders never cease?

I spent close to a half an hour snuggling with my brand new nephew yesterday after meeting him for the very first time. Yeah, on Mother's Day.

And I didn't die.

Imagine that.

Mother's Day

To the Mother who taught me how to love, thank you.
To the tiny boy who made me a mother, thank you.
To the man who took such gentle care of my heart this weekend, thank you.

Happy Mother's Day and quiet peace to everyone for whom today is more about sorrow than joy.

Your breakfast order

Whether you have little ones or not - in fact especially if you don't and are going to spend Mother's day coping with loss and disappointment and the myriad emotions and torments associated with being childless on Mother's Day - this is what you should request for breakfast tomorrow morning.

BANANA PANCAKES

1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
2 tbsp granulated sugar
pinch of salt
1 cup buttermilk or plain yogurt
2 tbsp melter butter or canola oil + more for the pan
1 large egg
2 mashed bananas (about 3/4 cup)
Extra sliced bananas
pecans and syrup

In a large bowl, combine flours, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, sugar and salt. In separate bowl, whisk together buttermilk or yogurt, butter or oil, egg and the bananas.

Make well in centre of dry ingredients and add banana mixture. Stir with fork until barely moistened.

Heat nonstick skillet over medium-high heat and brush with oil or melted butter. Reduce heat to medium and spoon in 3 tablespoons batter for each 4-inch pancake. When bubbles rise and break surface, turn over.

Cook about 2 minutes more until nicely browned. Transfer to plate. Keep pancakes warm in preheated 200F oven.

Serve topped with banana slices, pecans and as much syrup as it's legal to use in one sitting.

I believe that all women are mothers. We respond to pain as though it was our own, we heal wounds of the soul, we nurture and cherish relationships, we give of ourselves over and over again.

We are all mothers. Even those of us with no children to tend. Even those who have never had the chance to be pregnant at all.

I believe there is a mother in all of us.

And we all deserve mounds of pancakes glistening with butter and dripping with syrup at least once a year. So buy what you need today, give this recipe to your beloved, and wait for the sweet smell of hotcakes on the griddle to waft up to your side of the bed in the morning.

I wish there was peace on Mother's Day

During the intentions at Mass today, they made a special point of praying for all mothers. Even though I expected they would (they always do on Mother's Day), it was nice. Immediately following that they prayed for everyone who has a lost a mother this year.

Also very nice.

But what about mothers who have lost a child this year? What about the sorrow this day brings them?? I don't just mean babies either. Your child is your child when you're 80 and he's 50.

Why are we, as a group, so easy to forget? So easy to ignore? I don't understand this. I will never understand this.

I wanted to stand up and scream for all the mothers sitting in those pews quietly mourning children they have lost over the years. And I wanted to scream for the lost children that so many people are more comfortable just forgetting about.

I hate this day.

The priest asked everyone who was a mother to stand and receive a special blessing at the end of Mass. I didn't stand up. I should have - I am a mother. But I didn't. I sat there hating that I didn't while the other mothers stood tall and proud all around me.

I hate this day.

It's the thought that counts

On Tuesday, in an effort to distract myself from the swirling eddy of depressing thoughts still lingering in my weary brain after my appointment on Monday, I went out shopping. My Beloved was in need of some short sleeved shirts and since I am capable of at least giving him that (I'll pause while you roll your eyes at my nauseating self deprecation), I figured I'd head out to the mall.

I went to my favourite discount department store (I engage in retail therapy, but I'm notoriously thrifty about it) and headed down to the mens section. On the way there I passed a rack of Mother's Day t-shirts. They were cheap and cheesy - and I decided I wanted one really badly.

My first reaction was to avert my eyes and walk quickly by, but then I stopped, turned my cart around and went back.

It was suddenly very important for me to get one of the tacky little #1 Mom tank tops. I figured I could wear it around the house or under something when I'm out gardening. No one (save My Beloved who sees me in all kinds of horrendous "at home" outfits) would ever have to actually see it.

I do realize how pathetic and creepily needy it is to buy yourself a #1 Mom shirt for Mother's Day, by the way - particularly when you don't have any living children - but having that tank top was important and soul soothing at that moment. And besides, as a childless mother I'm not included in Mother's Day celebrations as a mother myself. I'm invisible.

And I get that - I do. It makes sense and all, but still, it doesn't make it any less depressing. So a hidden tank top would have been nice.

But alas, they didn't have one in my size. So I left the rack of cheesy tops meant for smaller mothers with, who are we kidding, living children and continued on.

In the end I bought myself a pair of Snoopy slipper socks instead. On sale, of course. It's May - and unseasonably hot at the moment - so I won't be using them anytime soon, but some chilly Fall day I'll be very pleased with my Mother's Day consolation prize.