As a daughter, I honored my mother on Mother's Day; and my father honored his mother. In this way I was taught that mothers were special, and deserved a day set aside to remember how important they were to our lives.
When I grew up and had my first child, I was suddenly a MOTHER, but since Michael was not old enough to know about Mother's Day, my husband gave me a card and bouquet.
More children arrived, and as soon as they could hold a crayon they created their own cards to give me. The girls folded paper and decorated the outside, and made up a poem for the inside. Janice drew flowers with "Roses are red, violets are blue, and I love you" on the inside.
Karen's more often portrayed horses, cats, or dogs, but again the "Roses are red....." inside. Michael was not the artist the girls were, and he was color blind, so his usually had a green tree with brown leaves. On the inside was just a sweet "I love you, Mom".
Ken came along five years after Karen, and he was artistic and his cards were often quite beautiful. His poetry was more original than the "Roses". He is the one who sends me flowers on Mother's Day.
Now they are all grown up with families of their own; but they still send me cards. On Sunday it is a race to see who will make the first phone call. They are four unique individuals who have made me understand the meaning of Motherhood.