The first time I felt like celebrating Mother’s Day for myself I was pregnant with my first child. Pregnancy changed me, the way it inevitably does, and I had already learned that motherhood starts with the commitment to care for that fragile life growing inside us. I was changing, and I wanted to be recognized as a mother, too, even if it wasn’t my first official Mother’s Day — that wouldn’t come until the following year.
When I imagined a wonderful Mother’s Day, I imagined a brunch, gifts, and appreciation. It wasn’t specific. It was a gauzy image of what the holiday could be — a day meant to appreciate the love and sacrifice of motherhood. I had joined that league of absolute superheroes, and I just wanted the one day to feel like that was honored.
I learned quickly that any holiday that was meant to make others feel special just wasn’t in my then-spouse’s wheelhouse. Not birthdays. Not Christmases. Certainly not Mother’s Day. He made his opinion clear: You’re not MY mother.
If I wasn’t going to get a gift, I would have to wait for my children to grow up enough to recognize the holiday for themselves. He wasn’t going to do it — and when he did, it was begrudgingly with the attitude that I was being done an unreasonable favor. It was hard to feel thankful for my last-minute grocery store flowers and Walgreens discount-aisle impersonal gift given at the last possible minute late in the day.
It comes as no surprise that I later divorced him — although for a myriad of reasons where Mother’s Day was a mere factor in the overall feeling of the relationship. I’ve spent the last several holidays alone, and honestly, by the time Mother’s Day rolls around, I’ve already hyped up every other holiday on my own. I’ve been a one-woman party planner organizing birthdays, Halloweens, Christmases, class parties, and gifts. I don’t want to have to be my own party planner for Mother’s Day, too.
Over the years, my children have brought home crafts for the holiday — to my eternal appreciation. It has meant more to me to have their macaroni crafts and handmade pottery than it ever meant to have that wilted bouquet of plastic-wrapped grocery store flowers. My children always tell me Happy Mother’s Day, and occasionally, their dad will send home a gift with them on one of his weekends that I’m sure was his wife’s idea because she is a mother, too.
My needs have become very simple for this day that holds such complicated feelings for me. I want to sleep in. I want to celebrate my own mother and to remember my grandmothers. I want to have a quiet day at home free from all the reminders that the holiday will go largely uncelebrated.
Don’t get me wrong here: I’m usually a big fan of celebrating myself. I plan special things for my birthday, and I always make sure I have a stuffed stocking at Christmas and gifts under the tree. I get myself a Valentine, and I celebrate my life. I just don’t want to have to carry this occasion, too.
When my kids were younger, I did try. I wanted them to learn how to celebrate a mom for Mother’s Day because I knew they wouldn’t learn it from their father. But I grew tired over the years. When they’re older, perhaps I’ll feel like reigniting the spark of the day. Maybe we’ll all go out to brunch, and I will toast these years I carried on my shoulders, how I became as strong as the women before me.
Until then, I want to sleep in. I want to wake grateful for my children and at peace with a quiet holiday. I want to let this one celebration go in a year where I am solely responsible for celebrating anything and everything.
If I’m honest, my complicated relationship has made me cast a watchful eye on other mothers. Last year, I noticed a flurry of men at the grocery store picking up flowers, balloons, and baked goods at the last minute. Yes, I judged them — and judged them harshly. Mother’s Day is in the same month every year. The advertisements are everywhere to give plenty of reminders about the holiday. It doesn’t take much thought or effort to make arrangements in advance. In fact, it usually takes little more than asking her best friend what she would appreciate if no original ideas present themselves.
If grocery store flowers are what’s in the budget, that’s fine. Maybe remove the plastic and put it in a nice vase or wrap it in craft paper. Dress it up. Pick flowers from a garden — not hers! — and do the same. The problem isn’t the lack of funds. It’s the lack of thoughtfulness. There are so many ways to make someone feel special, even on a shoestring budget.
Just as there are so many ways to make someone feel small and unappreciated — on any budget at all.
I know I will spend Mother’s Day fielding any number of “Happy Mother’s Day” messages by text and on social media. I will say thank you, but if I’m honest, I don’t ever feel terribly grateful for them. I do appreciate the passing thought, but I’d much rather avoid the sentiment on a day that is so special for others and so thoroughly unremarkable for me.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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From The Good Men Project on Medium
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Photo credit: Ijaz Rafi on Unsplash
