Okay, before you chase me with pitchforks, hear me out. I dislike Mother’s Day. There, I own it. Several reasons occur, but in a nutshell, I think the day is a waste of time. First of all, don’t you think that one day a year full of unrealistic expectations and forced gatherings should be saved for Christmas? I do. Here is the deal. For many, Mother’s Day is difficult. Maybe their mother has passed away, maybe they are unable to have children, or maybe their child has passed away, in any event, it can be depressing and downright difficult to watch this overzealous holiday take the forefront.
For me, I adore being a mother. Each day I get the joy of experiencing their milestones along with their smelly boy stuff. I am allowed the privilege of being present when they feel defeated or when they have triumphed. That’s my gift. I don’t need hand prints on construction paper, breakfast in bed, or the ever popular bundle of flowers all shoved into one day to celebrate me being a great mom. I already know that I am doing a good job. Yes, that sounds conceded, but success as a mother is seeing that they are happy and most of all, anything that has happened in their childhood doesn’t require extensive therapy. Boom! So far, so good!
Everyday should be a celebration of being human. After all, don’t you think that waking up each day to face the challenges of life should be celebrated? I do. Enough of the fanfare. Good grief, there are so many made up holidays that I can barely keep up and if you wait for a day “made up” to commemorate your mother, well, that in itself is a whole other issue.
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