In the initial years of motherhood, I followed the traditional Mother’s Day customs—cherishing keepsake crafts made from my children’s tiny footprints and enjoying the fragrant flowers my partner would leave on the table. I even braved the chaos of a restaurant brunch once (let’s just say, I learned my lesson).
Fast forward a decade, and I’ve finally come to recognize what I genuinely want for this special day. Surprisingly, it’s not extravagant jewelry or a luxurious spa experience. I have no interest in scented lotions or perfumes. My request is typically simple and inexpensive, requiring minimal effort from my family, who often wish to express their appreciation, perhaps with a hint of guilt for the toll motherhood takes on my body.
Do I still value those handmade treasures from my children? Absolutely. Just last year, they compiled a list of everything they adore about me, which my partner framed and hung in our kitchen. It brought tears to my eyes each time I glanced at it—even the part where my youngest claimed to love me because I cook potatoes, a dish I rarely prepare. But I cherish all of it, including the oddly shaped pottery made by my third grader.
Homemade cards? Adore them. A necklace with “I love Mommy” spelled out in wooden beads? Absolutely love it. However, what I desire the most is to receive these keepsakes early in the morning on Mother’s Day, express my gratitude, shower them with hugs and kisses, and then simply say goodbye.
It took me some time to realize this, and even longer to admit it. The unvarnished truth? The one and only gift I truly want each Mother’s Day is to have some time alone.
No, dear family, I don’t want to go to brunch and deal with the inevitable chaos—arriving late, annoying the hostess, taking multiple trips to the restroom, and cleaning up after spilled food. Breakfast in bed? Forget it. If my kids attempt to bring me a plate of syrupy food upstairs, it would end in disaster.
While the flowers are lovely and make me feel cherished, if you’re inclined to spend a little money on me, I’d much prefer a cozy pair of slippers or new sweatpants that aren’t stained. After three pregnancies in five years and countless hours spent with little ones who seem to forget that personal space exists, I eventually asked for a day off. A day where I wasn’t needed. A day without wiping someone else’s bottom. A day free from hearing “Mommy” repeated incessantly.
Initially, I felt the need to justify my request—mentioning I’d like new jeans, for example. But now? The family knows the deal. On Mother’s Day, I announce, “I’m leaving!” and they understand they won’t see me until the day is over. I might indulge in a coffee shop treat or enjoy some quiet time reading or browsing on my phone. I could go shopping, get a manicure, or simply relax with some fried cheese.
The beauty of it is, it’s my day—entirely mine.
I think part of the reason it took me so long to realize what I needed was due to my previous fear of solitude. I used to dislike the quiet and felt lonely without interaction. Motherhood has transformed me; now, I embrace solitude as if it were a luxurious cashmere blanket.
Like many mothers, I had to overcome feelings of guilt. My partner requests a family day for Father’s Day, so why shouldn’t I want the same? Maybe because he spends his weekdays in “Adult Land,” where he enjoys hot coffee without interruptions. And that’s perfectly okay. Once I experienced my first Mother’s Day alone, the guilt faded away quickly because it was nothing short of glorious.
Rest assured, I’ve already submitted my request for this year. It’s marked on the calendar. My family understands I expect very little, except for them to not need me for a whole day. Dad’s in charge. If they eat donuts for breakfast? I don’t care. If they want to stay in their pajamas and play video games all day? That’s fine with me. Just don’t call me unless it’s an emergency.
I’ll see you all after bedtime, my loves. And thank you for my Mother’s Day gift. It’s exactly what I wanted.
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Summary:
The author reflects on her evolving desires for Mother’s Day, ultimately realizing that her greatest wish is to have a day of solitude. After years of traditional celebrations, she now appreciates the freedom to spend the day however she pleases, free from the demands of motherhood. Embracing solitude has become a cherished part of her routine, allowing her to recharge and enjoy her own company without guilt.