The Only Mother’s Day Gift I Want

 By Leslie Price

I feel truly conflicted about Mother’s Day. I do enjoy flowers and cards, but attaching the word “mother” or “mom” to something is like tying a bowling ball to it; such is the weight of the baggage and social pressure that comes along for the ride.

When I googled “hate Mother’s Day,” there were plenty of essays covering this feeling. I don’t hate it, but I also don’t love it.  Like “Teacher Appreciation Week,” Mother’s Day feels like a limp consolation prize.

Maybe this makes me a weirdo, but I disliked being called mom from the start. I don’t mean by my daughter: I mean by the random man who yelled out “mom!” as I passed him on the street with the baby strapped to me soon after her birth. Or the pediatrician who didn’t bother to call me by my name, because mom would suffice. It felt like they were trying to erase my identity? Mom, a sentient lump of flesh. Mom, the person who would wear unflattering jeans and dated hairstyles and would fasten the car-seat straps and pack the school lunch and clean up the bedroom and do the laundry and schedule the dentist appointment and on and on.

I discovered the best Mother’s Day gift years ago when a group of friends (mostly moms with one non-mom) started convening once yearly at a predetermined destination for a weekend away from it all. We had all met in New York but had since scattered and it was a nice way to reconnect with old friends and my old identity. And one year, the trip just happened to fall over Mother’s Day weekend. 

The most wonderful thing about these trips wasn’t the meals or exploring. It was that liminal time between lunch and dinner when we could just laze about. Sometimes people even napped! This was revelatory. In my day-to-day life there was no room for lazing or napping anymore. Relaxing happened maybe after she went to sleep; but even then, there was work to be done — food prep, tidying, dishes, grocery lists.

After more than a year of feeling betrayed, abandoned, forgotten about — what does a gift for mom look like this year? For me (and maybe, for you?), it looks just like I always want it to look. I don’t want brunch with a five year old. All I want is … a break.

This year, there won’t be a Mother’s Day mom-friend trip for a lot of reasons. But I hold on to this idea, and I am ready to cash it in whenever circumstances finally allow.