As the first-ever Pandemic Mother’s Day of our lifetimes approaches, you may be wondering just how the heck you can celebrate the mothers in your life when you shouldn’t really be leaving the house or interacting with others right now due to COVID-19.

I’m a mother of four, social distancing in our home with my husband, kids and two smelly dogs. And I’m here to offer some ideas and tips for making sure this Mother’s Day still feels special.

Ask her what she wants

If you’ve never straight-up asked the mothers in your life what would make them happiest on Mother’s Day, this is a FANTASTIC year to start, and the sooner the better. Even if she’s always seemed happy with breakfast in bed and flowers year after past year, it’s entirely possible she would like to change things up. Maybe she really wants breakfast in a bath, behind a locked door. And to replace the flowers with noise-cancelling headphones.

Plan and act now

We’re all supposed to be trying to keep our store-runs to a minimum right now. Dashing out the Saturday before Mother’s Day to browse multiple stores, even if they are open in your area, in a search for the right gift isn’t really an option. If you still need to order something, it won’t arrive before Mother’s Day (despite your Amazon Prime membership — sorry), but I think most moms will understand this year if they have to wait a bit for it to ship. Just wrap a photo of it! But still — order it now, not the day before or on Mother’s Day, if you can.

Silence costs zero dollars

I don’t speak for all mothers, but I can tell you that all I want on Mother’s Day is a break. Parenting 24/7 while social distancing is wearing me down. My 3-year-old never stops touching and talking to me. He even insists on laying on top of me while he naps. Many parents are experiencing extreme emotional and physical burn-out while we self quarantine with kids.

Some of us are on a tight budget right now, but it doesn’t cost anything (or very much when you calculate the cost of gas) to clean out her car, fill a travel cup of coffee for her, put together a great playlist on Spotify, and just let her drive around in silence for as long as she needs to. If driving is not an option, promise to let her watch TV or listen to podcasts in silence — ALONE — for as long as she wants on her day.

To me, this and any special thing, meal or experience she asked for would make for the perfect Pandemic Mother’s Day celebration.

Recognize that this is unusual

I hope we never, ever have to celebrate Mother’s Day under these circumstances again, but this can also be a great time to do something you’ve never done before. Since going to her favorite restaurant is probably not even possible, order takeout from there instead and set out a beautiful table at home. Maybe some great, new traditions will come out of this unprecedented time.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jill Krause isthe author of 50 Things To Do Before You Deliver & Lactivate. She blogged at BabyRabies.com for over 10 years and now shares her life on JillKrause.com. Krause lives outside of Austin, Texas, with her husband and four children after traveling the United States and Canada in an RV for 18 months. You can find her on Instagram @JillKraus.e

Pandemic Mother’s Day photo: © JenkoAtaman / Adobe Stock.

Editor’s Note: We asked mom, humorist and Barry Manilow fanatic Wendi Aarons for her advice on celebrating Mother’s Day this year. Enjoy.

Mother’s Day is a wonderful opportunity to show your wife, mother or the special woman in your life how important she is to you. It is also a wonderful opportunity to screw up big-time.

I say that as someone who once spent Mother’s Day at a dilapidated horse track in San Antonio, Texas, dressed in the purple sequined “jazz hat” she was given as a gift by her family. Thank goodness I hit that trifecta or the day would have been a total disaster.

To save you from a similar misstep, I offer the following Mother’s Day advice on activities and presents that will have the woman in your life weeping with joy, not crying in her closet.

Ask Her What She Wants to Do on Mother’s Day

Does she want to spend the day alone? With friends? Hanging out with the family at the park after a nice lunch? Start asking her at least a few days before the big day so you can make definite plans.

Of course, there’s a good chance she’ll respond to your questions with: “I don’t care, whatever is fine.”

This is not true. Whatever is not fine. Whatever is NEVER fine. Whatever is chugging $1 beer at the horse track when she would much rather spend Mother’s Day sipping champagne on a sun deck. But she didn’t say so. Ask. And keep asking.

DO NOT do the following on Mother’s Day (unless she specifically requests that you do):

• Let the kids wake her up before 8 a.m.
• Let the kids pee on her before 8 a.m.
• Allow any cooking in the kitchen that involves batter and/or dropping eggs unless it will be immediately cleaned up by Not Mom
• Say things like, “You know, moms have it pretty easy, overall.”
• Post home videos of your wife’s labor and delivery on Facebook

Ask What She’d Like for a Mother’s Day Gift

If you’re someone who is great at picking out a perfect gift and who enjoys giving surprises — congratulations, you are not married to me.

Most dads are too busy with work and kids to comb the mall for hours trying to find the most special item ever. That’s totally OK. It really is the thought that counts (unless the thought is the aforementioned purple sequined jazz cap.)

That’s why I suggest asking your wife/partner/mom/helpmate what she’d like you to get her. Most women have a few ideas or names of stores they like and would be more than happy to tell you. My suggestion: Go with a gift card or flowers, and have the kids (if they’re still young) make something for mom. Handmade is always the best, even if it involves glitter.

DO NOT buy the following as Mother’s Day presents (unless she specifically requests that you do):

• Home waxing kit (and I’m not talking about for her car, but that is also not cool)
• Membership in a weight-loss plan
• Booty shorts from Wet Seal in size 2
• Anything with “fight fat” in the name
• Sexy lingerie
• Unsexy lingerie
• Gift card to Hooters
• Stretch mark cream
• Anything with “preventive” in the name
• Groupon for a massage in a spa that’s actually a van
• Flavored vodka (actually, this one is OK)
• HOT MOM T-shirt
• MILF T-shirt
• A hamster
• A pregnant hamster
• Anything with “senior” in the name
• A card printed off of the computer with a message typed in Comic Sans
• Laundry room items
• Handmade coupons for things like “hugs” that she will put in a drawer, forget about, then try to redeem in 10 years when the giver will sneer and say it’s “totes expired”
• Meat

But you probably already knew all that, didn’t you, Mr. Modern Dad? Of course, you did. That’s why you’re still walking upright. Like my husband mostly did on the way home from the horse track.

About the author

Wendi Aarons is an award-winning humor writer who can usually be found at wendiaarons.com, McSweeney’s, US Weekly Fashion Police, the PaulRyanGosling parody Twitter account, or starting fistfights by the 70 percent off rack at Target.

Many Mother’s Days ago, when people still believed blogging had career potential and advertisers only catered to XX chromosomes, a parenting site hot for clicks published an article by a dad called “Top 10 Things Mothers Do Better Than Fathers.” It’s caused a lot of consternation among the online dad community probably because the writer illustrates in great detail about how few parenting abilities a father (the writer himself) has when compared with a mother (his wife).

That whole “mom vs. dad” thing still chaps my ass.

In the spirit of community, generosity, support and solidarity with my fellow fathers, I have written a list of the Top 10 Things Moms Don’t Do as Well as Dads. This will definitely clear up any confusion or lingering animosity as well as imbue with confidence those dads who feel as inept in their parenting roles as the writer of the original post did.

10. Play catch

Everyone knows it’s a dad’s job to play catch with his kids. Or with his sons, at any rate. Moms just don’t have the genetic catching ability. That’s science, people. Everyone knows women’s hands are made mostly of silk and crystal. That’s why they’re so much better at soft things like diaper changing. Don’t throw a ball to your mom. You’ll just break her hands.

9. Punch

Dads are just better at punching. They just are. They punch more things more often for a larger variety of reasons than moms ever do. Also, see No. 10 — re: Mom hands.

8. Discipline the children

Everyone knows moms can’t discipline their children. Their voices are all high-pitched and soft, and all they want to do is snuggle. Also, it’s a little known fact that moms are not biologically able to say things like “go to your room ” or “you’re grounded.” Their lips and tongues actually can’t form those phrases. Again, science. That’s why they’re always saying “wait ’til your father gets home.” Which brings me to No. 7.

7. Work. At a job. For like, money.

Dads work. They bring home the bacon so the moms can fry it up in a pan. Dads are just better suited to the demands of the work-a-day world than fragile, high-pitched and snugly moms. Don’t get me wrong: raising kids is hard work. Just not as hard as actually working.

6. Dispense wisdom

Dads are natural founts of wisdom. With all the years they’ve spent working and punching things, they’ve learned a thing or two about life. A mom can tell you how to wash your ears, but when it comes to understanding human nature, forget it. They’ve got their heads in the clouds and their noses in the Zappos website.

4. Math

This one is pretty much self-explanatory. One plus one equals man, baby. It’s in the Bible, I’m pretty sure. Plus (a math term), with all the remembering recipes and shopping for the house, moms just don’t have the brain space left over for dealing with numbers.

3. Science, duh.

Moms are way too squeamish for science. Science includes things like fluids and gravity and so forth. Try explaining those things to someone who changes diapers all day.

2. Drive

Moms are notoriously bad drivers. That’s why the only driving they do is to and from school, playdates and extracurricular activities with the kids, to go shopping, and to pick dads up from the train when they get home from work.

1. Fix things

Moms never fix things. It’s just not natural for them. For one thing, there is the problem with their hands. Also, the math involved. Finally, anyone who spends their day kissing boo-boos, snuggling, cooking, cleaning, changing diapers and shopping would not have the first idea about how to use tools. Dads automatically know how to use tools from the time their first offspring is born. Or even before that, really. I’d say most men who become dads have known how to use their own tools at least since puberty. It’s a dad skill, plain and simple.

This is not a complete “mom vs. dad” list. There are many other areas in life at which dads excel over their female counterparts: lifting things, fantasy football, serial killing …

We offer up these 10 solely to boost the self-esteem of those dads out there who so often feel like the lesser parent. Let the healing begin.

And to all the moms out there, Happy Mother’s Day. Please don’t punch me.

A version of this first appeared on Musings from the Big Pink.

To celebrate the approaching Mother’s Day holiday, we asked members of our City Dads Groups around the nation to share a lesson on parenting they learned from their wives. Here they are and — sorry, guys — this still doesn’t get you out of giving her a proper gift on Sunday.

Smile

Living with a couple of 2-year-olds who have a voracious appetite for knowledge means most of the lessons in our home go from parents to kids. The other day I realized that my sons aren’t the only ones learning. My wife has taught me something every parent should learn.

Smile.

Kids throwing cereal on the floor?  Smile.

Work have you a bit frazzled?  Smile.

Nap time isn’t going as planned? Smile.

Life is too short to get frustrated over every little thing that arises. A smile calms down everyone around you, making it easier to correct the situation. So remember, SMILE!

— Kevin Zelenka, Las Vegas Dads Group
Double Trouble Daddy,  @doubletrbldaddy

Mother’s Day Lesson: You are the Parenting Expert

Parenting is a joint enterprise and it’s something for which “on-the-job” training is essential. And by the time you have it completely figured out, your child has outgrown that phase!

When I was a new parent, I felt like I didn’t know how to do anything. Diaper, swaddle, burp, co-sleep —  it was all new to me. My wife, on the other hand, seemed to be an old hand at all of this stuff. I had several moments of “can’t do” frustration, where I freaked out about not knowing how to do something, or which was the best course of action to take. My wife talked me down and convinced me that I was the parenting expert and that I could do or figure out anything.

Turns out it was true! Six years later, my child is alive and still thriving (last I checked).

— Adam Gertsacov, Chicago Dads Group
Dadapalooza, @dadapalooza

Don’t Play “Super Baby” After Eating

“Nothing will happen. She’s having fun!”

::BAAARF!!!::

And in that moment, I learned that baby cheese has a very similar taste and texture to cottage cheese. Except it’s nice and warm. (And “you’re welcome” for my making you vomit in your mouth.)

I love tossing both my kids around and rough-housing. It’s definitely our thing. But, now I take a deep breath from the fun and think. I remember the taste of infant bile in my mouth and my wife having to say, “I told you so,” as she laughed, took a picture, and posted it to Facebook. Lesson learned. Sort of.

— Dave Lesser, NYC Dads Group
Amateur Idiot / Professional Dad, @amateuridiot

Mother’s Day Lesson: Take It Slow

Maggie Miller is the mother of my child, my wife, and my partner. She’s taught me more about parenting than any of the dozen books on my shelf.

When co-parenting our son, now 16½, one book we’ve both found invaluable is Slow Parenting Teens. We each have a copy on our nightstand, and when I read it I always realize that Maggie’s a naturally slow parent. A key value of the concept is “parent every day,” and it’s because of my wife’s insistence and example that I make the effort to connect with our son Jordy every day.

It’s working. My son is open to hanging out and talking about his day, every day, and I am grateful to his mom for the lesson that ensured this.

— Doug Gertner, Denver Dads Group
The Grateful Dad, @DougGertner

If You Don’t Laugh, You’ll Cry

Whose fault is it when your 3-year-old wades thigh-deep through the fountain display at Lowe’s? I tend to think my children are consciously trying to make my life more difficult. Yet, somehow my wife sees through these opaque lenses of love that nearly blind her ability to hold onto frustration toward our children. She has taught me that things are only as bad as you allow them to be.

In all seriousness, though, if we saw that happening to someone else, we’d laugh. So, what’s the point of being mad?

— David Kepley, Dallas Dads Group

Mother’s Day Lesson: Love Happens

My wife taught me that I loved my daughter when I was freaking out I’d never love her. I struggled with the idea of “falling in love.” It was supposed to be like in the movies: hold her, heart-melting, mind and soul overwhelmed by the deepest enchantment possible. It didn’t happen. I felt distant, disoriented, frustrated, scared. I hated myself for six months until my wife showed me a picture of my daughter and me. I stared at my face – the look of pure adulation and joy – and I realized I’d loved my child all along.

— Lorne Jaffe, NYC Dads Group
Raising Sienna, @raisingsienna

I was in the fifth grade and it was a Wednesday. I know it was a Wednesday because my school only served hot lunch on two days – Wednesday and Thursday. Wednesdays brought Campbell’s vegetable soup and McDonald’s hamburgers and cheeseburgers. Soup was a quarter and burgers were fifty cents each. That particular day I forgot my money and my lunch.

I called home, but my mom wasn’t home, so I called my grandmother and asked if my mom was there. I asked if she could pass the message on to my mother.

She did one better.

I sulked most of the morning because I couldn’t get a hold of my mother which meant no lunch. However, when it was time for lunch, my name was called and there was an envelope with a quarter in it.

Apparently, my grandmother, knowing that my mom could not be reached, took it upon herself to ride three different buses to get to my school to drop off a quarter. For me.

She took a 45-minute trip each way to drop off 25 cents. Her bus fare probably cost more than my lunch, but she did that for me. It made me feel valued. Almost three decades later, I still remember receiving that quarter. It was a gesture that showed just how special my grandmother was – and how fortunate I was.

I wish my grandmother was still alive so that I could tell her just how extraordinary she is, and how special she is to me. She was the type of mom (grandmothers are like the original moms, right?) who started a Brownie troop for my mom because there weren’t any for young black girls at that time. So she put together a troop, made badges and organized outings so my mom, aunt and their friends would feel just as valued — feel as though they belonged – even at a time that society was telling them that they were restricted to certain parts of the bus, certain water fountains and specific schools. She sacrificed to make sure my mom knew she was special.

That type of specialness gets passed down.

Because of my grandmother, I had a mother who sacrificed for me. Who taught me the importance of people rather than things. Who shared her struggles and challenges growing up so I knew an adversity wasn’t unique just to me, nor was it one that was unbeatable. A mom who read to me daily, worked puzzles, and learned about baseball and basketball because I was interested in them. A mother who tolerated my interest in professional wrestling (and once EDITED a wrestling magazine I bought IN RED PEN!!!). A mother who woke me up with classical music every day, but also hit me with a blast of Motown, musicals and pop tunes. A mother who encouraged me to write and think for myself. A mother (now a proud grandmother) who has conquered Facebook, Twitter, Skype and other Internet hurdles to continue to bond and interact with her crazy son and his family.

My children are fortunate to have a mother who prioritizes their needs, their hopes, their dreams. A mom who displays respect and appreciation by sharing valued lessons and memories she learned from her mom (my mother-in-law – who is also special because SHE cared about fostering growth, creativity, and individuality in her daughter and now her grandkids).

My kids have a mom who recognizes their fears and encourages them to be mindful of them, but not to let them be limited by those fears. A mom who disciplines because she wants them to know right from wrong, and then later is on the floor with them playing and laughing because she values their imagination, creativity, and spirit. A mom who smiles and gazes at them during quiet moments when they don’t even know she is watching, but she is, and she is enthralled with all of who they are – in the tough moments, and the good ones too.  A mom they can depend on for hugs, kisses, tickles, wiping of tears, laughs, and the truth. A mom who is proud to be a mom not because she is an amazing mom, but because the most rewarding part seems to be the front row seat of seeing these little children grow up and develop who they are, and what THEY want to be.

What makes moms special?  I can’t answer that for every child or about every mom.  However, what makes my moms in my life special is that they empower, they empathize, they embrace, they enjoy, they inspire, they protect, they encourage, they sacrifice. They are.

I’m not ashamed to say that the moms in my life helped make me a better son, man, husband, father. I’m not ashamed to say that I appreciate so many moments that may seem insignificant to others, but are priceless to me – like the sight of my kids huddled on their mother’s lap as she reads to them, or the sound of their collective belly laughs as they play.  I am not ashamed to say that I appreciate the fearlessness that the moms in my life display.  Most importantly, I am thankful for the impact that the moms in my life had had on my children.

A version of this first appeared on Tales From the Poop Deck.

Dear Mom, Peter Wilson‘s second poetic book about parents, spins a tale of an old man writing a letter to his mother. The letter focuses on the impact the author’s mother had throughout his life, from singing to him as a baby all the way to his life as a father.

Wilson’s simple lines (“But even so, I had you with me, in a special way, because you taught me how to be the man I am today”) deliver a deeper meaning of the relationship between mother and son.

My mother and I have a special relationship. While she may pluck at my strings of patience with her “motherly” advice and requests, in the end, I find her to be a guide in many areas of life.

I recall the day my parents dropped me off at college quite vividly. It was a hot, steamy August afternoon in Bloomington, Ind., and I stood outside the circle of my dorm room as the ebb and flow of anxious and excited freshmen swoped past me. My dad hugged me and whispered, “Good luck, son. I’m proud of you.” My mother’s eyes rained tears of happiness, joy, sadness and several emotions I probably couldn’t fathom or understand. They drove off and immediately the next stage of my life began.

As a parent of two, I am beyond fortunate to have her close enough to be a consistent babysitter which has brought her closer to me, my wife and certainly my children. In fact, whenever my mother is around my kids, my daughter wants nothing to do with anyone except her. In addition to her being a beloved “Nana” to my children, my mother continues to instill confidence and advice in my parenting life daily. That is quite special.

Wilson’s journey through his life with his own mother emulates many of ours. From the trials and tribulations of growing up, followed by the utter chaos of parenthood we dads now face daily, his letter quips a few of his mother’s own quotes. For example, he writes:

When I’d worry about the future; money, house and cars,
You’d say, ‘Life’s a journey, not a destination — what’s important is who you are.

Simple, powerful and sensible.

Illustrated by Carol Matsuyama, Dear Mom writes of a son’s love for his mother throughout the years. It’s a short read but one that our moms would absolutely adore to the point of crying with happiness knowing what a special place they hold in our hearts … even if they still tell us we don’t eat enough vegetables.

Editor’s Note: In honor of Mother’s Day this coming Sunday, we are featuring posts about moms and a mom’s love by our City Dads Group contributors.

My mom was a junior high school art teacher for more than 25 years. Her specialty was not the art her students created, but the creativity she taught them.

Many of her students would get down on themselves and their artwork. It wasn’t going the way they wanted, they couldn’t draw perspective, they couldn’t draw their self-portrait, whatever. My mom had a rare gift as a teacher — she was able to look at their work and show them how what they thought was a weakness  was really a strength. If they turned it sideways, or used it as a base for something else, or allowed themselves the opportunity to see the drawing they made instead trying to see the drawing they wanted to make. Almost invariably, the artwork would turn out better, tears from the student would be averted, and a valuable lesson in self-esteem and creativity would be learned.

After she retired, we would sometimes go out to dinner, and many times former students would recognize her and invariably say the same thing: “Mrs. G! You were my favorite teacher! I loved your class! I still think about some of those artworks we made!” As a son, it was very satisfying to see my mom so universally loved.

When my dad passed away in 1987, my mom received some money from the insurance. After some thought about how to use it, she took a large chunk and established an Arts and Academics Grant Program, whereby teachers and schools could apply to get funding for programs in which the arts and the academic curriculum could be combined creatively. Since she began it, the program has given more than $15,000 to schools and teachers, enhancing the lives and educations of thousands of Rhode Island school children.

My mom loved to think outside the box. And she loved to be enigmatic and creative.

One day I received a phone call from her.

“1. 4. 3,” she said.

“What?”

“1. 4. 3.”

“What do you mean?” I asked her.

“Figure it out,” she said.

I spent the next couple of weeks pondering this.  I have four brothers, and I am the oldest, so I was thinking this was the order in which she loved us. But that wasn’t it.

Or maybe it was an artwork that she particularly loved.  But that wasn’t it.

After a week or so of thinking about it, and coming up with multiple wrong answers,  I came up with the right answer.

_   _ _ _ _    _ _ _
I    LOVE    YOU.
1.   4.         3.

Since then, I’ve been looking at words in a whole different way.

My mom passed away in 2007. And not a day goes by that I don’t think about her in some way, or miss her.

Sadly, she never met my son. We found out we were pregnant right before she died, and we never got a chance to tell her.

As I raise my son, I am teaching him the lessons of creativity and playfulness and self-esteem that I learned from her.

I don’t really believe in heaven, but if I did, I’m sure she’d be looking down at him and smiling because I believe in a mom’s love.

1. 4. 3. Mom. 1. 4. 3.

A version of Mom’s Love first appeared on Life of Dad and Dadapalooza.

Editor’s Note: To celebrate Mother’s Day, we asked our friends in the dad-o-sphere and beyond what was the greatest lesson their mom taught them that they apply to their own children. Here’s the lessons dad learned.

Be a constant presence

My mom taught me that life happens in the nooks and crannies of our days. Perhaps that is why she always seemed content with who she was and where she was. She lived in the moment.

And she placed herself in the moments of her children. As a child, I was always aware of her presence and availability in my life. I am a better man because of this woman. And I am a better father because she was my mother.

– Jim Higley; author, speaker,
blogger – Bobblehead Dad; @jimhigley

Kitchen improv

Both of my parents can cook, but I learned a good deal of kitchen improvisation from my mother. She was always able to take a basket full of ingredients and make them into something cohesive. Even leftovers could become something new and different the next day. And nowadays, when I’m cooking dinner for my family, I don’t panic if I haven’t got a recipe or if I’ve got a less-than-ideal set of ingredients. The skills that my mom taught me in the kitchen help me feed my family without panicking or rushing to the grocery store for a pre-made meal. Plus, pizza’s cheaper and more delicious when you make it yourself.

– Zach Rosenberg; freelance writer, co-founder – 8BitDad,
co-organizer – L.A. Dads Group; @zjrosenberg

Carry on the conversation

As a teenager, I had many laughably short conversations with my mom that began with her pleasantly inquiring about my day and ended soon after with my classic teenage non-starter responses like “fine” or “good.” Thankfully, by my mid-20s, my mom and I had a very different dynamic: conversational, personal, fun. I valued her input and generosity. I enjoyed her company. She died at 72. I was 32. She once told me that as much as she wanted to see me married and with children, she knew she couldn’t compel it, so instead she just tried to be a good mom to the person I was. I couldn’t compel it either, but I eventually did become a husband (and a father) and I would say that for me the very best part of my relationship with my wife is how much we like to chat with each other. To give some very important credit where it’s due, I think that makes me a momma’s boy.

– Eric Messinger, editor of New York Family magazine

Lend an ear

My 4-year old son has started telling me stories. Sometimes it’s a ninja turtles fight scene; other times, the entire plot of Frozen (which we saw together). Whenever he goes on one of these detailed rambles, I smile and nod attentively because I’m reminded of how often I came home from a movie or finished a book and couldn’t wait to retell the entire thing to my mother — always a captive audience, never rushing me along; letting me cram in every triviality. I admire her patience and aspire to the same with my child. I look forward to many more years of him coming to me in excitement because he knows I’ll not just listen, but attempt to share in his excitement. I realize now those interchanges with Mom made me a better storyteller — to find significance in the minutia, to revel in the unraveling of a tale, and the freedom found in an eager listener.

– Brent Almond; designer – Design Nut,
blogger – Designer Daddy, @DesignerDaddy

Lessons Dad Learned: Patience

My mom taught me patience. I’m not saying she was always patient in every situation, but the times she was are the ones that I remember. In sixth grade, I had the lead in our school Shakespeare play and I couldn’t for the life of me memorize my lines. She sat with me for hours every night for a month, listening to me stall and mess up dialogue and soliloquies over and over. I don’t remember her ever getting frustrated with me once. In fact, I remember her smiling and nodding and celebrating every inch of progress. And when the performance came, she was in the front row with the same smile. She made me feel strong. She still does.

Now, when my daughter is trying over and over and over to accomplish a task, I resist the urge to take it from her and do it. Sure, I help when asked, but mostly I smile and I cheer and I hope she feels strong.

– John Kinnear; writer/editor – Ask Your Dad Blog; @askdadblog

Lessons dad learned main photo: Nissan

Editor’s Note: To celebrate Mother’s Day, we asked our friends in the dad-o-sphere and beyond what was the greatest lesson their mom taught them that they apply to their own children. Here’s the first wave of responses. Come back tomorrow for more. – KMcK.

Amateur expert
My mom taught me to play soccer. My mom didn’t know anything about soccer other than that it involved a ball people kick with their feet for some reason, but that was enough for her to spend hours every day kicking the ball around with me. And that was enough to give me a lifelong love of soccer and a lifelong appreciation of my mom’s dedication.

My mom taught me you don’t have to be an expert at anything to be a good parent. You want your kids to love playing music? Get them a cheap guitar and show them the two chords you barely know. You want them to love science? Show them the one easy experiment you saw on YouTube. You want your kids to love writing? Sit down with them, make up a story and write it down. Your kids’ passions won’t come from seeing you excel, but from seeing you get involved.

– Oren Miller, blogger – A Blogger and a Father; @bloggerfather

Dedication and imagination
My mother taught me enough dedication and imagination for a two-parent family. She raised me and my brother by herself. My sons are the beneficiaries of so much more love as the result of her parenting and my experience as a father, so far, couldn’t have been as full and embracive without her influence. My mother helped teach me to be a loving father.

– Charlie Capen;
actor, blogger – HowToBeADad.com;
@howtobeadad

Be available
My mom was the one in the neighborhood who always was available to drive to and from any activity, and she insisted on taking anyone home who did not have a ride. She worked full-time as an elementary school teacher but always managed to make the time, be there for anything and everything, and show sincere interest. She was also welcome at all sporting events until the day she walked on a wrestling mat to tell the referee how to do his job. After that she was banned – LOL. Because of her example of always being available, I am the one my girls look to whenever they need a ride anywhere, even Philadelphia and Boston to visit camp friends … if I am in town, they can count on me driving.

– Ted Rubin, social marketing strategist,
brand evangelist – TedRubin.com, acting CMO of Brand Innovators;@TedRubin

The power of speech
One of the things I remember clearly from my childhood is how my mother spoke to me. As early as I can remember, my mother spoke to me in a way that treated me less like a baby and more like a developing young man. We were certainly not peers, so let’s be clear about that. But, my mother wanted me to develop my language skills and expand my vocabulary, so that I might be able to express my thoughts and feelings clearly.

My wife and I have since applied this philosophy into our parenting. Our 3-year-old daughter articulates her thoughts clearly, listens well and is advanced verbally for her age. I believe this is due in large part to how we have spoken to her since birth. Thank you, Mom, for showing me that this is a sound and impactful parenting style. Your granddaughter thanks you, too!

– Christopher Persley; English teacher, educational consultant,
blogger – The Brown Gothamite, member – NYC Dads Group; @BrownGothamite

Give them space to grow
One of the most valuable lessons I learned from my mother was to give your kids space to develop their own interests, and once they do, you do whatever you can to support them in the pursuit of it. I was read to from a very early age and quickly became enamored with comic books once I could read myself. From there my interests expanded to include drawing and art. I remember my mom carting me all over town to convenience stores and flea markets find comics and searching art supply stores for the right paper and pencils. I would run home and retreat to my room for hours reading and drawing.

I am sure my mom would have rather me hang out with the rest of the family and be social, but she saw how passionate I was about drawing and supported me unconditionally. I am keeping a close eye on our son to see what he becomes passionate about, but it’s hard when kids today get scheduled to do so much. I often wonder, “Is this something he really wants to be doing or is the schedule keeping him from discovering his passion?”

– Andy Miller; father to Clark, husband to Brian,
co-founder of The Handsome Father

Acceptance
My mom taught me that it was OK to be who I was. If I’m a good person and do the right thing it doesn’t matter what other people think. I try to take that lesson with me in my interactions and relationships today. Accepting people for who they are.

– Daniel T. Monk Pelfrey;
blogger – Post Post Modern Dad; @ppmdad

I can still hear her voice from the stands.

“C’mon Chris! You can do it!”

Her words echoed across the field, the ping from the aluminum stands from eager feet shuffling as she moved to the edge of her seat. The sounds of the early game behind her wafting over to our diamond; the cheers, the sound of the ump, and the crack of a bat. Someone else’s kid just got a hit and now it was my turn.

I wasn’t sure I could do it but, there in the stands, was always Mom.

She always has been my biggest fan; it’s a rite of passage as a parent to root your children on. My mom still cheers for me in everything I do and the greatest lesson she has taught me is to be generous with encouraging words. When I was full of doubt, she was there with confidence. When I lacked faith, she helped me believe. When I was down, she knew how to lift me up. When scared, she made me courageous. That’s the power of my mom.

“Nice and easy swing. Just make contact,” she said.

I dug in and waited for the pitch.

When the pitcher squared with a full count, eager to strike me out and head to the Snack Shack for a post-game Mr. Pibb, I knew I could hit this ball. I believed in myself.

When I saw him deliver the ball, it looked like a watermelon. I saw it floating to me like the ball was on a lazy river on summer break.

I crushed it.

The ball sailed out of the park and onto the tennis courts behind the field. I had hit my first home run.

My mom went wild.

I ran the bases and pumped my fist like Kirk Gibson. It was my first and only home run of my life. The game was over and they gave me the game ball. I never received one again.

“I knew all along that you could do it, I’m so proud of you,” she said after the game. No reward is ever greater. Not even a home run game ball.

My biggest fan photo by amseaman on Foter.com / CC BY-ND