“I won’t grow up… I don’t want to wear a tie… Or a serious expression… In the middle of July…” The lyrics from the Peter Pan song drift down the hallway, momentarily capturing my attention. I can’t help but smile as I tiptoe closer, peeking into the room where my son is surrounded by his Lego creations.
“What are you singing, darling?” I ask.
He looks up in shock, his eyes widening. “MOM! You can’t hear it! It’s supposed to be a surprise!”
Feigning innocence, I reply, “Hear what? I didn’t hear anything. Did you?”
His grin, the kind that warms my heart, spreads across his seven-year-old face. “I know you’re just kidding, Mom,” he chuckles.
Mother’s Day has become a beautiful tradition filled with simple gifts: scrambled eggs topped with American cheese, a cheerful hanging plant, a new pair of running shoes, and pink gardening gloves. Our family hikes along the Wissahickon trail, and of course, the four handmade cards from my boys.
One card, created by my eldest son with a hint of reluctance, features minimal text—just a charming doodle paired with a joke. He hands it to me with a shy smile, offering a rare hug. The second card, crafted by my ten-year-old, is vibrant with marker, depicting me with a wide smile, freckles, and a cape. He hugs me tightly, the blue ink from his fingers smudging onto my shirt.
The two youngest, ages seven and four, present me with their own creations. Before I even glance at the cards, they clamber into my lap, resting their heads on my shoulders—still my babies, despite their growing independence. When I finally look at their cards, tears well in my eyes at the sight of “I LOVE YOU, MOM” scrawled across the paper. Such a simple yet profound message from hands still mastering the art of writing.
On a Thursday morning, just before 8 AM, I find myself in a pew surrounded by other kindergarten parents, eagerly awaiting the performance of our sons. I suspect they’ll sing the song I overheard before, and the lump in my throat tightens as I anticipate the moment.
Conversations quiet down, parents straighten in their seats, and phones are pulled out to capture the moment as the boys file into the chapel, donning an array of clever hats—chef hats, fireman hats, hard hats, and fezzes—waving enthusiastically as they take their places on stage.
My son scans the audience, and when his gaze meets mine, that familiar grin spreads across his face, filling my heart with warmth. I wave and blow him a kiss, and just as I feel a tear start to fall, the song begins.
“I won’t grow up… I don’t want to go to school. Just to learn to be a parrot… And recite a silly rule.”
Tears stream down my face as I wipe them away with my fingertips. I’m crying for my boy, the third of my four sons, who has made incredible strides this past year. I’m filled with emotion as I watch him sing with such exuberance, knowing that this enthusiasm may soon wane as it has with his older brothers.
The performance continues, and I reflect on the bittersweet nature of growing up. I cry for mothers like Kate, who are facing their first Mother’s Day without their beloved children, and for those grieving the loss of little ones in tragic events. The thought of families separated by grief weighs heavily on my heart.
“I won’t grow up! Not a penny will I pinch. I will never grow a mustache… Or a fraction of an inch.”
I think of all the mothers who will not enjoy the simple pleasure of their children’s presence this year. I weep for the victims of tragedies, for the parents left to grapple with their loss on this day meant for celebration.
As the song comes to an end, I quickly wipe my tears, aware that my two older sons may be embarrassed by my emotional display.
This Mother’s Day, I will savor every moment—the taste of my eggs, the scent of the flowers, the comfort of my new running shoes, and the warmth of my gardening gloves. I will embrace every step of our family hike, even when complaints arise. Each card made by my boys will be cherished, a reminder of the love that fills our lives in this beautiful yet unpredictable world.
In honor of all mothers who cannot celebrate with their children, I will soak up the joy of my Mother’s Day, grateful to be surrounded by my loved ones.
Wishing love, peace, and healing to all this Mother’s Day.