Opinion By Barbara Field My son still won't send a Mother's Day card And that's perfectly fine with me. Photo Credit: Getty Images/iStockphoto/istock Updated May 10, 2019 6:00 AM Print Share fbShare Tweet Email Unlike 13-year-old William Rabillo of Nevada, who traded his Xbox to buy his single mom a Chevy Metro last month, my son won’t honor me with a car, let alone a card. He used to draw me cards. By sixth grade, he refused to support Hallmark or the floral industry. I said, “That’s how you feel, but I value mushy, overwritten cards and red roses that have no scent.” That didn’t persuade Adam; he was always too sensible. For years, I drove him to our San Diego shopping center, handed him cash and waited while he bought me a Mother’s Day card. I was teaching my son to do the right thing. I was a Long Island-raised NYC writer marooned in San Diego. As a single mom, I was broke and had migraines. Yet, that boy was my joy. Unlike other families who lived in houses with bonus rooms, we shared a room, and I begged for scholarships. I was sorry I couldn’t give my son more, like siblings or pets. We didn’t even have plants. I ferried him on play dates and to sports games, to the library and museums. I thought I was a good mom, but Adam begged to differ. I forgot how much he weighed in front of his first-grade class. (Was I supposed to memorize that?) I cooked spaghetti carbonara when he was an athlete eating healthy. I threw him a surprise pizza party, though he hated parties. And when he was in high school, I goofed again. He called about another college acceptance. “Mom, I got into Stanford.” “Oh my God. I’m so proud of you,” I said. “Thanks,” he responded. “Are you sure?” I asked. He laughed. “Let’s not tell Papa and Grandma until Monday to see if it’s a mistake.” He did get accepted. He continued to call on my birthdays and picked up the check when we last had dinner. At my sister’s funeral, he steadied me when I needed it. Adam landed a good education and job, and he remained grounded. He is a solid young man, despite his mother’s bungling. This Mother’s Day, instead of feeling bad that he doesn’t appreciate me, I will send him a card — a flashy, $7 thank -you with big flowers on the cover that requires two stamps. Instead of sending a card with a prerecorded tune, I’ll create a message in my voice saying, “Thank you for making me a mother.” Barbara Field is a writer who teaches memoir writing. Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Comments We're revamping our Comments section. Learn more and share your input.