Another Grand Mother’s Day

I’ve never really had a proper Mother’s Day.

Yes, I am the mother of two daughters and for the past two decades I can always count on Mother’s Day falling on the second Sunday in May. But, I really have never felt like the day is for me. You see, ever since I became a mother, my own mother has come to visit us for Mother’s Day.

My mother lives in Florida and we only see her about twice a year. Her other daughter and granddaughters live in Virginia. She goes there every October since she shares the same birthday with my niece, Penny, one of her four granddaughters. But, share is the operative word here. It’s not just about her. It’s more of a happy family occasion with most of the attention, and gifts, going to her adorable granddaughter. Her only son, my brother, lives in the same house as she does, the very house where we all grew up, but they don’t have much to do with one another. So basically, when my mom comes to visit me, she wants to be pampered, she wants to be spoiled, she wants to be entertained…because she doesn’t get much of it the rest of the year. I understand how important it is to her to have her moment to shine. After all, she spent years raising three rambunctious kids while her husband worked (and played) long hours as a personal injury attorney. Now it’s payback time.

I get it. I really do. But…

It’s a stressful process, and even more so for the past several years since my stellar event co-planner and husband, passed away. Now, it all falls firmly and solely on my lap. Several months before the big day, usually around February, I get the call. “Hi, it’s your mother. I’m looking at flights for May.” Soon after we hang up, I get her flight itinerary in my email in-box. My mother is a travel agent so she knows how and where to get the cheapest flights. As soon as I know when she plans to arrive, I look up what shows are playing and other activities that might interest her during the long weekend window when she descends upon our little household.

The fun literally starts the minute I pick her up at LAX. Usually, we’ll stop at a museum that’s on the way home to see an exhibit at the Getty or Skirball (Tip: both have great cafes for lunch!). In the past, I’ve also taken her to tapings of the Ellen show (VIP Pass!), I’ve gotten excellent (ie: pricey) seats to several shows at the Pantages Theater in Hollywood from Billy Eliot (meh) to Motown: The Musical (wonderful!). Once, when I knew I wouldn’t be able to attend one of her milestone birthdays, I invited some girlfriends to an early celebration at an upscale local restaurant. (big success!)

But the most important part of her visit is always MOTHER’S DAY. The Day of the Mother. Or, in our case, The Day of the Grandmother.

In the past, we’ve made the trek to restaurants on the beach, joined friends at trendy new haunts on Beverly or Melrose, scarfed down massive hotel buffets, you name it, we’ve done it. Every single year I rack my brain, trying to come up with a new exciting way to spend HER day, not MY day. I am the daughter and she is the mother. My own daughters might give me a card but that’s usually all the acknowledgment I get as a mother. They pull out the big gifts and cards and breakfast in bed on my birthday in early April. Even they have come to know that Mother’s Day is for Grandma. But, you know, my mom is in her early 80’s and she’s in good health. She has no problem getting on a plane by herself to travel across the country. I may sound a bit resentful, but I really am grateful to spend some quality time with her. And during her visit we usually hit up several Ross Dress for Less stores so she can buy me clothes as a belated birthday gift. Did I mention that?

When I finally drop her off at LAX, usually that Sunday night for the Red-Eye back to Florida, the exchange is almost always the same. “Thank you for a wonderful weekend. I’m so lucky to have such a thoughtful daughter.” A few day’s later I’ll get a call from my sister in Virginia. “You really set the bar high this year. I don’t know how I’ll top it when she comes to visit in October. Thanks a lot.” That’s how I know I truly pulled off a magical Mother’s Day weekend, when she calls my sister to rave about how much fun she had on her visit to the West Coast.

This year, I’ll be out of town for Mother’s Day. I have a wedding to attend and I can’t miss it. She’s not thrilled but we’re going to have to celebrate Mother’s Day a little later in the month.

So, does anyone have any suggestions for a great place to eat the Sunday of Memorial Weekend in the Los Angeles area? I’d really appreciate it. So would my mother.