As a woman, I’ve always struggled with the concept of Mother’s Day. I’m not saying everyone falls into this hole, but after years of lauding Sunday as the day of all days to celebrate our mothers, I’ve often thought about a large section of women who fall outside that happiness box. The “others.”

So, this is for those who either chose to not have children, could not have children, or wished they had a different mother. Everyone else might just want to chuck this post.

Oddly, I grew up not wanting to have children. I simply didn’t picture myself as a doting parent, even though my mother was the epitome of good parenting skills. I didn’t feel I was being selfish. I just envisioned a whole different life for myself, traveling the world, maybe joining the Peace Corps, a single suitcase, and that’s it.

So, when none of that happened, and I went the conventional route because I honestly believed I had no other choice, I didn’t stress the whole Mother’s Day thing with my kids. It felt too obligatory. And in my mind, it only circled around an expectation and a false ideal that you weren’t a woman if you didn’t have babies. The truth is a woman’s self-worth is determined by her own measure. And definitely not by how many watermelons she can spit out.

I can’t fault anyone for not wanting to spend their days cleaning up after a bunch of poopy kids, or going out to eat and having to endure a meal listening to the sound of weeping and carrying on. My heart goes out to those non-mothers who wished they were mothers and have to pretend this day has no meaning, hating Hallmark and 1–800-flowers with their chirpy “Happy Mother’s Day!” ads splattered all over the Internet. My heart goes out to those sons and daughters of loving, dead mothers who see this as nothing but a shitty, lonely reminder of what they’ve lost. And to those with grew up in a household never knowing the true meaning of unconditional love from a mother, my heart goes out to you too. It’s tough trying to be selfless and shower a little person with a sense of empowerment when the only role models you had were clueless.

Mothering just isn’t for everyone.

I have no regrets that I went down this road. Like everyone else, I’ve learned to take the heat for all my kids’ screw-ups, to endure their abuse about getting old, and that I’ve repeated myself way too many times. I just smile and think, “You just wait kiddo. One day it’ll be your turn.” So, if you want to give me the card, the flowers, the candy, the whole shebang, go for it. Just don’t go overboard. Check out the $1.25 Store (I don’t know . . . that still doesn’t have the same ring as the Dollar Store), and please don’t do it because you feel you have to, but because you want to. I’m saving all my guilt trips for worthier things.

Peace. Hugs. Thanks.

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