To the mothers, grandmothers, aunts, sisters and all other female figures in our lives who love and encourage us, we say a collective thank you.
She Is My Rock
By Rebecca Bouchard, brand integrator
My mom is the most selfless person you will ever meet. She is a strong independent woman who takes care of herself, so she can be there for others. She has always been there for me while growing up and continues to be there for me and my family now.
Somewhere along the way, we went from a mother/daughter relationship to being best friends. She is my go-to person for advice, to vent to, to share successes and disappointments. She never judges and helps to find solutions. She is my rock! She prefers to put the wants and needs of others in front of her own. Thank you, Mom, for inspiring me to be a good person, mother and friend.
By Rashi Gupta, vice president of finance
Everyone has heard of Superman, but has anyone heard of Superwoman? I have — my mom. Superwoman is the only way I can describe her. You would think she is given more than 24 hours in a day with all of the things she can accomplish in a day, every day.
My mom is always helping her immediate family (grocery shopping, picking/dropping my kids from school, cooking all while I am at work), as well as extended family, friends and neighbors.
She is always there if anyone needs a helping hand, advice or a shopping buddy. She doesn’t know how to say no nor does she ever want to. She is rushing from place to place, person to person to make sure everyone is taken care of.
She is the glue that holds our entire family together.
She is a part of her three kids’ and eight grandkids’ lives on a daily basis, never missing a performance or birthday and always available on those random half-school days. When my mom goes shopping, without fail, she comes home with clothes or toys for everyone but herself. She cooks fresh food daily for my dad and the many surprise guests who stop over on a daily basis (we call their house the Delta hub). My mom never misses a celebration, whether it is a half hour away or halfway around the world, she is there for the people in her life. Even at this age, she is always creating new bonds with people, while still keeping up with the old ones.
My mom is my comforter.
She taught me to never sweat the small stuff. She understands and empathizes with what others are going through. Whatever she does she goes above and beyond. She has such a comforting hand that even to this day when I feel down, she is the one who can make me feel better: She still rubs my head when I have a migraine! Some may call me a princess but anyone loved by my mom would feel like royalty.
As we approach Mother’s Day, I want her to know how much she is loved and appreciated. I hope to be half the mother to my kids as she is to me.
She Is the Song in My Heart
By Janine Savoie-Abramson, legal assistant at the home office
My brother, sister and I celebrated our mom’s 80th birthday with a party for her and her closest friends and neighbors (of which there are many). As my brother’s present, he wrote and sang a song, “That’s My Mom.” This song is about her life and how she “always gave and never took for herself.” My mom is truly a selfless person and genuinely nice to anyone she meets, and I am forever grateful that I am able to call her my mom. Listen to the song on YouTube.
Love and Laughter
By Haley Kotwicki, content specialist
Before I start recounting my adventure with my mother, I must say that Ma and I are best friends. However, she was never the type to try being my peer as some parents are wont to do. I always knew she was the boss, and I respected that. We became best friends as I’ve grown older and started to see her as a person made up of millions of facets: chef, caregiver, widow, etc., not solely Ma. Thus, as a friend, I get the honor of razzing her from time to time, so why not today.
Ma is a klutz. She won’t admit it, but she is more accident prone than a puppy potty-training. Working with her on household chores is a balancing act between monitoring her safety and making sure what she is using or holding doesn’t break.
A few years back, we were raking fallen leaves out of our flower boxes. We had plans to turn the dirt and plant some lilac bushes. While cleaning, my mother spotted boxelder bugs skittering under the siding of our home. If you don’t know what a boxelder bug is, count your blessings. These six-legged black and red ovals have a particularly disgusting aroma and gather into a mass of pulsating clicking shells. They will seize patio furniture, plants and anything you hold dear. That day, it was the siding. Ma had decided to knock some bugs loose before they could find a way inside the house. She started rapping lightly which turned to pounding. Boxelder bugs came flying out, but Ma’s hand went flying in. Yes, she had punched her way into our house and successfully shattered a few tiles. My mom is the Muhammad Ali of house-boxing.
Now, you may ask: Did she stop the bugs’ invasion? Did you fix the siding? Has she tried to beat up your house again? The answers are: no, yes and yes. The boxelder bugs spent a cozy winter in the siding and returned the following year to ruin everything. My dad had mended what he could, but there remains a perfect fist-shaped patch even today. Ma seems to hold some sort of grudge with our home due to their history of brawls; Ma has ripped the bathroom sink from the wall, cracked plaster, demolished chairs, smashed another hole in the siding, etc. It may seem she is the reason why we can’t have nice things, but her clumsiness is just one of the things that makes her… her. And, I love every part of her.
By Olivia Bellefleur, with an introduction from her mother, Shannon Bellefleur, web and marketing technologist
My daughter Olivia turned a school writing assignment into a family treasure. She captured enduring memories of visits to her grandmother, Olive Crawford (for whom she is named), with her heartfelt poem.
Olive Marie Crawford
Raspberries and rosemary
A pear tree, and garden
And who could forget the dull orange
Of the linoleum kitchen tiles?
Dust and herbs, of course
The rope-swing that always hurt my hands
An old tire and gasoline
And decade old ribbon candy (probably)
The doorway marked with memories
Thick carpet and creaking floors
Warm bread and blackberries
The piano in the corner, always out of tune
Your voice always shook
A soft rumbling vibrato
My namesake, kind and stern,
I wish I had known you better
Editor’s note: This article was originally published May 6, 2016. It has been revamped and updated for accuracy and comprehensiveness.