Mother's Day - I like that day of the year, of course.  It's probably only one of maybe two annual events I can look forward to feeling special. 

The ancient Celts also had a Mother's Day.  It came about three weeks after the ''Imbolc" festival was celebrated at the end of winter.  All the women would gather for it. 
It was essentially a women's festival and they would bring a feast, and presents for each other, and also presents to lay on Mother Earth.  It was a day for honouring life and 
the fragile existence we forge here on our planet. 

I've had an up and down relationship with my own mother, over the years, and many times when we haven't seen nor talked to each other.  It was just too painful to do so, 
But I've rarely let a Mother's Day lapse and, even when I had nothing else to do with her, 
I usually sent her a gift.  Often, it was a box of Singapore orchids, which she loved. 

She always rang or wrote to say thankyou but, when things were hard between us,
it was difficult to let that flow into forgiveness and acceptance.  I don't know that we've really ever got over those estrangements.  We see each other now, but rarely. 
She has her life and I have mine and, really, I don't think she has the energy or inclination 
to want more of me in her life, anyway.  That can't be helped.  Our personalities and way of living are just too different. They clash.  But she still is my mother, and was there for me, in spite of everything, when I needed her.  It's not a difficult thing, then, 
to honour her as someone special in my life. 

I see the difficulties I have with my own daughter and, while I am glad they're not as bad as those I've had with my mother, they do make me feel frustrated.  I often wonder where she gets such ideas about me.  Perhaps my own mother feels the same way. 

Yet, I watched a movie about a mother and a daughter, in which the daughter behaved toward her mother similarly to the way mine often behaves to me.  And I realised that I am not alone with the anxieties and frustrations and difficulties that 
come with getting along with an adult daughter.  I am happy that she has her own unique personality and opinions, and that she is certain enough of herself that she is happy to assert them in opposition to the views of others.  I believe I did something right, there.  It's just the antagonism that comes out, and the rudeness,  that I can't deal with. 

I've tried to analyse this, and wonder if I did something wrong by cultivating a friendship
rather than staying the ''mother," but my friends would never speak to me the way my daughter does.  No, I fear that this sort of communication is between mothers and daughters, or any parent and offspring, alone.  Or, sometimes, between enemies... 

What is it about children and their parents?  I know my daughter and sons were brought up witnessing the extremely difficult relationship between myself and my own mother.   So, I have used that as an excuse for their behaviour, believing that somehow they learned to not respect me, as I did not respect my own mother at times.  But what happened to the respect I have well and truly earned, and the beautiful things we have shared in our lives together?  Aren't they to be acknowledged, also? 

Yes, well, I suppose they are, in the end.  I do know my children love me.  Every so often it comes out, too, at very unexpected moments,  and balances out the crappy bits.  So, any fears that, somehow, I'd created enemies in my bosom are squashed into nothing.  Those instances are very rewarding and, I suppose, are what helps you keep on going, because sometimes you do just feel like giving up and letting them get on with their lives as they see fit.  Is that normal or just my own affected point of view, cultivated because of what happened between me and my mum?  I don't know. 

It is probably a normal and healthy fear - keeping us on our toes. It goes through your mind, but you don't really  do anything about it.  You don't really want to be separated from your kids...  Just like I often still acknowledge my own mother on Mother's Day, my children honour me.  I should be thankful for that. 

If they really didn't love me at all,  they simply wouldn't remember...