Another Mother’s Day has passed, and I find myself wistful. The frequent commercials about buying mothers special gifts leave me unimpressed, for I remember the days when a simple dandelion bouquet presented by little boys with dirty hands and innocent smiles would fill my heart with joy. Just to know they thought enough to bring you something special and let you know that they loved you ever so much was worth more than diamonds or pearls.

It is a good time to remember dandelion bouquets this week, as the yard is literally covered with the lovely and bright yellow flowers that all too soon go to seed creating another thousand or so of the little flowers. Seeing these bright yellow flowers has caused me to wax poetic, I suppose.

I remember when the preschool sent home pictures of little owls perched on black tree branches, the owls being made by our children’s fingerprints. I have both Nick’s and Jake’s pictures framed and hanging in the upstairs hallway.



The lion pencil can made from a tin can covered in felt with googly eyes and a smile was the official pencil can on the counter for years, and the “No Taxation without Representation” teapot picture is also framed and in the hallway.

A plastic tote in the garage houses the artwork done in elementary and early junior high school years. I kept it thinking one day that we would open them up and peruse them together and they could tell me again what was happening in their lives, hearts, and minds when such projects were created; it hasn’t happened yet.

To be fair, though, both boys called early in the morning to wish me a pleasant day and to chat for a while, and both calls were deeply appreciated. I know their lives are busy and I am happy that both have found partners in life and are happy and content … but I miss them.

A few months ago, I found the videos my youngest son had converted from VHS to DVD, and I smiled in wonder as I watched them sled down the hill, splash in the pool and play in the sandbox. I envy young moms of today as they whip out their phones and, in a flash, they can capture memories of their children with live photos and videos. By the time we found our still cameras or video cameras, charged them up, and found film or tapes, whatever we had wanted to capture had already passed. Now thousands of pictures can be captured in an instant and kids grow up learning how to be photogenic. They can even capture that magic moment when the dandelion bouquet is presented, a moment that can be kept forever.

I find myself wondering why some families seem so close, while others seem to keep one another at arm’s length. I often envy my friend Annette; her kids are in and out of the house almost daily, and a simple phone call will bring them over for a spontaneous cook-out, or a car trip to town for ice cream. I know my husband talks to his family almost every day, but the calls I make to my parents and even my children are more randomly placed and gatherings are scheduled weeks and months in advance. What creates that essential difference?

My goal was never to be an overbearing or intrusive parent or child, but in creating space for everyone to do their thing, have I inferred that I don’t want their presence? These are the thoughts that keep a neurotic person up at night!

Having spent several hours pondering these questions for a good deal of the night, I now find myself in need of a short nap. Time to cuddle up with my furry friend and a furrier blanket for a quick power nap!

‘Til Next Time!

Mrs. B.

Jan is a long-time nurse and the author of the book “Motherhood and Other Natural Disasters.” Comments are welcome at

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