It's a win-win when my neighbors save Mother's Day
For many suburban families, Mother's Day has a familiar feel. Moms with younger kids patiently wait for the traditional breakfast in bed, appreciating the sentiment even if the food is cold, the kitchen is messy and something gets spilled on the sheets.
More mature moms welcome the traditional Sunday brunch and a chance to see their kids all in the same place at the same time for a meal. Grandmothers welcome the chance to see their grandkids dolled up.
For many couples, the day is a relay race as they dart off to his mom, then her mom, then stepmoms, then grandmas and on and on.
That's why I have been so lucky to marry into my wife's family.
For as long as I can remember, we spend every Mother's Day at my sister-in-law's in Elgin, where she (even though she's a mom who should be relaxing) serves up a scrumptious brunch honoring her mom from Mundelein, her husband's mom from Palatine, her sister's husband's mom (that's my mom) from Goodland, Ind., and numerous friends who also are moms or have moms or know moms. So instead of having to spend the day in the car driving between mothers or having to choose whether we see my wife's mom in the suburbs or my mom in Indiana, we are treated to a one-stop, all-the-moms-in-one-spot, relaxing Mother's Day.
It's been the perfect solution.
But this year, that plan wouldn't work. My brother Bill, who usually drives my mom up for the day and also looks forward to my in-laws' brunch, is in the midst of treatment for bile-duct cancer. He had to be up at 4:30 a.m. Monday to drive to the clinic back home in Indiana for a CT scan, and it didn't make sense to force him to drive a couple of hundred miles and get home late the night before.
Mom didn't want to leave Bill. I felt guilty knowing I'd spend a wonderful Mother's Day here while my mom and brother were home alone in Indiana.
That's when our neighbors once again proved to me that not only am I lucky in marriage, I also hit the jackpot with neighbors.
"Would you mind if we drove down to see your mother and Bill on Mother's Day?" asked one of the women my mom refers to as "the girls." Mother's Day can be a little sad for our neighbors, as both their mothers have passed away.
They've known us and our families for 20 years and truly did want to visit my mom and Bill. Faced with what could have been a Mother's Day headache, I told my mom to take two neighbors and I'd call her in the morning. My mom and brother were thrilled.
On Mother's Day, after our kids delivered breakfast in bed, I was loading the car when my neighbors walked out to their garage carrying a homemade Italian feast. The recipe, handed down through generations of mothers in Sicily, featured meatballs and sauce, manicotti and a delicious salad for my mom and brother.
Mom and Bill responded by breaking out their "Heroes of the Torah" glasses to share wine with our Jewish neighbors who bring the Italian food. They laughed. They talked. They played music. They feasted.
"It was wonderful," Mom gushed the morning after.
"It was a special Mother's Day," one of the "girls" said Monday.
Yes, it was. And it makes me realize how lucky I am to not only have my mom on Mother's Day, but to be allowed to share the day with several generations from several families who all know how to make a Mother's Day special.