When I was little, I would make projects in school for my mother. I always assumed that she loved them, she never gave me any reason to think that she didn't.
As I grew up a little, I looked objectively at the things I gave her and decided on my own that she really didn't love them, she loved me and was too nice to tell me that they were not worth keeping. I mean, who needs all those bookmarks and pots anyway. I stopped (mostly) giving her handmade things for mother's day, unless I thought they were really objectively worth keeping.
This year Eleanor made me a necklace with a heart on it. "It's symmetrical!" she told me, and pointed out how she had made the beads the same on each side. Every time I would talk to her about school, she would mention that they were making a surprise, but that I shouldn't ask any more about it. When she brought home the present in her bag she uncharacteristically brought her bag right up to her room and hid it in her closet. Amanda made me a bookmark with a pressed flower on it, and she wrote her "own letter" on it. Michael had to remind her about it on Sunday, but she watched eagerly as I opened it and was proud to have made it.
I love the gifts wholeheartedly, even though they are not objectively useful. It's not that I love them because they are the best that the girls can do, or because I don't want to hurt their feelings. These gifts came from the heart, and I see that every time I look at them.
I finally realize that when my mother told me how much she loved what I did for her, or when she told me that all she really wanted was a homemade card from me, she was telling the absolute truth. And now I can do the same for my girls.
Thanks, Mom.
As I grew up a little, I looked objectively at the things I gave her and decided on my own that she really didn't love them, she loved me and was too nice to tell me that they were not worth keeping. I mean, who needs all those bookmarks and pots anyway. I stopped (mostly) giving her handmade things for mother's day, unless I thought they were really objectively worth keeping.
This year Eleanor made me a necklace with a heart on it. "It's symmetrical!" she told me, and pointed out how she had made the beads the same on each side. Every time I would talk to her about school, she would mention that they were making a surprise, but that I shouldn't ask any more about it. When she brought home the present in her bag she uncharacteristically brought her bag right up to her room and hid it in her closet. Amanda made me a bookmark with a pressed flower on it, and she wrote her "own letter" on it. Michael had to remind her about it on Sunday, but she watched eagerly as I opened it and was proud to have made it.
I love the gifts wholeheartedly, even though they are not objectively useful. It's not that I love them because they are the best that the girls can do, or because I don't want to hurt their feelings. These gifts came from the heart, and I see that every time I look at them.
I finally realize that when my mother told me how much she loved what I did for her, or when she told me that all she really wanted was a homemade card from me, she was telling the absolute truth. And now I can do the same for my girls.
Thanks, Mom.
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