Expressway: Confessions of a Jewish mother

Mother's Day is here and once again there will be a beautiful box filled with my favorite perfume and shower gift set, plus the old standby, a new loungewear robe. If perhaps a travel-size tote bag is in the mix, I may now be considered "hospital ready."

If it were in my power, I would rename Mother's Day "Kids-O-Us" -- big time.

The once-a-year dinner in honor of our stretch marks falls flat. I do admit, I have a kitchen drawer full of menus (in alphabetical order) for merchants who deliver, so I should welcome that day out. But when a woman has been kicked from the inside, a Cosmopolitan in a fancy steakhouse is weak thanks.

My two sons are married and out of the house (there is a God) and I am a mother, grandmother, and if my Zoloft is not discontinued, I may achieve great-grandmother status. While I still have my mind intact, I want my family to know what I gave up for motherhood.

I gave away my youth, bikini bod, my neck, 20-20 vision and of course, anything sleeveless. In place of my thinning eyebrows, I have acquired a few chin hairs. At this stage, the most practical gift would be a good pair of tweezers and a light-up triple-magnifying mirror (gift-wrapped in plain brown paper).

I got my sons A's in homework, tucked them in every night and -- spoiler alert! -- put the tooth fairy money under their pillows.

Every Halloween, I followed my trick-or-treaters and prayed for no rain. Later at home, the three of us checked out their "goody bags" for the good, the bad and things to discard (or keep for me) when they're asleep.

When my "baby" left for college, I cried each time I passed his empty room. The very first evening, my husband and I ate out and later took in the movie "Titanic," which helped me realize my son was perfectly fine -- and safe.

I shopped each Christmas and Hanukkah (three guesses on who stood on the long returns lines).

There were graduations, first cars, waiting for their keys in the door so I could go to sleep. The $75 jar of under-eye cream (20 percent off coupon) should start working any day now.

Their wedding guest lists grew longer than "Gone With the Wind." I lost 25 pounds to fit into that "mother of the groom" gown -- but regained it quickly at the cocktail hour, the buffet and of course, the dessert table, which should be outlawed.

And my confession, one many mothers can relate to and for which we deserve a standing ovation, Academy Award and Purple Heart: At every barbecue, my family got the tender, juicy steaks and I always took the well-done cuts with the fat and gristle. Eaten with an overdone baked potato which, with enough sour cream and chives, became quite edible. Having experienced labor pains twice, a tough chewy steak is a walk in the park.

Motherhood has given me wisdom I want to share with my grown sons: Parenthood should be spelled, "pair-enthood." If your guilty pleasure is sports, don't complain if hers is shoes. Ordering dinner in a few days a month is still cheaper than a diamond ring or bracelet. PMS is your wife and mother asking her world to "please make sense." A sweet surprise, like a kiss for no reason, helps a lot.

Reader Ruth Greenstein, 88, lives in Roslyn Heights.