My ward has a lavish Mother’s Day tradition – the central hall in the church is filled with tulip-decorated tables and the women are all invited to a brunch made and served by the men. Crepes, berries, fresh whipped cream, breakfast casseroles, bread – it’s quite the spread. Apparently the women treat the men to a similar meal for Father’s Day (never having been in my ward for June, I asked about this today); and the tradition is cherished enough that when our current bishop accepted the role he announced “While we can all agree that our Mother’s/Father’s Day celebrations have gotten out of hand, I have no intention of it ending on my watch.”
It’s enjoyable to visit with the other women in my ward over good food, but Mother’s Day always seems to highlight my otherness as a single, childless, female adult in a family ward. Inevitably, in the spirit of inclusivity, the good wishes and mass tokens of the holiday get expanded to any adult with ovaries, leading to moments like this:
Man: (as he hands out bags of chocolates to the women at my table) Just a gift from the men in the ward to say that your husbands appreciate you! (He notices me.) And your… friends. Your friends in the ward appreciate you too.
Oh, the awkward! I’m happy to forgive this one, though, since it came with a bag of Lindor and Dove truffles. Most of the time the comments like this reassurance from over the pulpit – “And for those of you who haven’t been blessed with motherhood yet, you still have the chance to share your womanly attributes with those around you,” are all too common and, worse, are truffleless.
Unless we make it a day for appreciating women, I would rather just be ignored altogether. Although I did appreciate the snarky woman sitting next to me who, at that comment, leaned over, squeezed my arm, and said in a faux-sultry voice in my ear “I appreciate your womanly attributes.”
I snorted. Not the most reverent response to have in Sacrament meeting I suppose, but it was appropriate.
P.S. To answer Miranda’s questions:
– Our May book was The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh. The romance annoyed me, but the book is devourable and I have been interested in Victorian flower symbolism since the first time I read The Age of Innocence. June’s book, if you’re curious, is The Light Between Oceans, which I read and enjoyed last fall.
– I am going to take watercolors and probably a class on oil painting as well.