Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

I am not good with obligations. The only after school activity at which I ever showed a tiny minuscule of skill while growing up was Ballet. And even then I was mediocre. It’s not that I didn’t want to be good with obligations. It just wasn’t in the cards. And, frankly, I was fine with that. But my mother, intent on instilling in me a commitment to one day put her in a nursing home against her will, insisted I stick with the activities on which she had signed me up for.

There was gymnastics and piano lessons, which I objected to on the grounds that there wasn’t a snack bar. There was basketball, which discriminated against those of us unnerved by buzzers. There was golf, which my dad and brother put a stop to. There was tennis, which mean't I had to fetch balls for the coach and run suicides. And, of course, there was any and every type of dance imaginable, an experience that immediately downgraded my mother’s twilight years from a mediocre nursing home to one known for its health code violations.

Still, I hung in there, remaining on whatever recital or sponsored-by-the-local-pizza-parlor team I was on until the end of each year. And, as much as I hate to admit it, not every obligation was awful. Sure, I spent a lot of time on the sidelines, staring at my shoelaces and planning what I’d say when Connie Chung grilled me on the circumstances surrounding my mom’s lawnmower “accident.” But, there was the occasional triumph, like the time I scored a goal or got to be in The Nutcracker and wear toe shoes. I can remember when I slipped on first base in a Slow Pitch Softball game. Let me tell you, it doesn’t get much better than that. It’s a moment that’s stayed with me all these years, not just because I can so clearly recall the Keds I had on while running to first base, but because it was witnessed by my mother. Also in attendance at that game was my father, who apparently enjoyed that moment so much I was forced to resign Softball.

Fast forward to the present…I’ve long since come to terms with my place on the obligations ladder. And after years of me responding to her challenges with my rolling of the eyes, my mom has stopped trying to recruit me for anything that involves fresh air and/or character building.

Nevertheless, our bond is strong and I realize that I am, in many respects, who I am because of my mother. A passion for philanthropy, an addiction to Chevy Chase movies and the ability to sniff out any Ice Cream parlor within a 25-mile radius; our similarities outweigh our differences.

She is a woman of humility, compassion and respect…and I wish her a very happy Mother's Day. That said, the nursing home is a done deal.