Oh God. It's Almost Mother's Day.

is this the most triggering holiday?

Photo by Earl Wilcox on Unsplash

Quick note: I don’t have time for voiceover this week. I am near the finish line on this play, and I have a super busy week. This post is pretty short, so hopefully its an easy read.

After my last post, I felt sort of like you all just saw me naked in the shower or something. That was about the most vulnerable I’ve ever been, publicly anyway, and when I feel icky I go straight into…yep, masking. I started writing this really surfacey and perky post about Mother’s Day. I wanted to go all positive, be like “BE YOUR OWN MOM!” and all that placating kind of shit we say when we are trying to make ourselves feel better.

I was like let me make some jokes about husbands buying Bisquick and half dead flowers at the Costco last minute! LOL! Let me cover up all those feelings real quick, like my cats do when they bury a poop.

I don’t want to do that. So I won’t.

Mother’s Day suuuuuuuuuuucks.

YES THAT’S RIGHT. I SAID IT SUCKS. And based on all the (amazing) comments I got last week, I have this sneaking suspicion some of you feel the same.

Mother’s Day was tough even when I had my mom around. There was always so much expectation on it, and as our relationship got worse, I didn’t feel like pretending anymore. But I would anyway, and then I’d feel terrible and guilty. One year, I decided to buy her a funny card instead of a sappy card. As time went on, it just felt fake to give her these flowery, poetic cards, and we always laughed about things. Unfortunately, her sense of humor did not apply to Mother’s Day. I didn’t make that mistake again. The first Mother’s Day after my maternal grandmother died was also a rough one. I think my mother spent that one in bed, as was her right.¹

There are so many variables that can make it suck. You can only take your mother in small doses. Your mother was abusive. Your mother is dead. Your mother was abusive AND dead. Your mother is far away. You never had a mother. You never knew your mother. Your mother gave you up for adoption. Your mother adopted you. You wanted to be a mother, but couldn’t. You decided not to be a mother. You lost a child.

I’m sure there are things I didn’t think of, but if we add all that together, that’s a whole lot of us. I don’t want any of us to have to do the dance. I don’t want us to lip sync for our lives so no one can see the pain behind it. I don’t want you to have to feign excitement for burnt pancakes and wilted roses. I don’t want you to have too many unlimited mimosas at Mother’s Day brunch to stuff down the grief.

Speaking of brunch: I waited tables for many years. I can tell you right now that Mother’s Day brunch is the worst shift in the restaurant industry. PERIOD. There is no worse shift. Not even New Year’s Day hangover brunch is as brutal as fucking Mother’s Day. I always worked Sunday brunches in my short but illustrious restaurant career, and the phrase “Mother’s Day” made my hair stand on end. Give me three doubles in a row over that shift any day.

One Mother’s Day, many moons ago, a man was very angry that his breakfast didn’t arrive with the rest of the table (which was my fuck up, and I owned it, and rushed it through the kitchen), and this man LITERALLY chased me into my server station, screaming at me, red in the face. He was large, and very angry, and I was a little scared. Fortunately, a blisteringly fast kitchen staff and overpriced eggs saved the day, not to mention a very large Bloody Mary (only in a restaurant do you get a free cocktail for being an asshole). Of course, I realize how completely insane it was that a grown ass man physically chased a 21 year old for eggs, but I digress. This isn’t even the most insane story from my waiting tables days.²

There are two things in this world guaranteed to make you regress: Your mother, and being hangry. If you’re going out this Mother’s Day - please hydrate, bring a snack just in case, and be nice to your servers and bartenders and hosts. They are having a bad day. Trust me.

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A reader reminded me about the existence of this piece by Anne Lamott about this bullshit holiday Truly, it is a balm for the soul. This is my favorite bit, though the whole piece is A+:

Mother's Day celebrates a huge lie about the value of women: that mothers are superior beings, that they have done more with their lives and chosen a more difficult path. Ha! Every woman's path is difficult, and many mothers were as equipped to raise children as wire monkey mothers. I say that without judgment: It is, sadly, true. An unhealthy mother's love is withering.

The illusion is that mothers are automatically happier, more fulfilled and complete. But the craziest, grimmest people this Sunday will be the mothers themselves, stuck herding their own mothers and weeping children and husbands' mothers into seats at restaurants.

The idea that mothering is the most important thing a woman can do, superior to any of her other accomplishments, has never sat right with me. No one says that about being a father. As we continue to lose our rights in this country, it bothers me even more. How dare we valorize mothers with one side of our mouth while stealing their bodily autonomy away from them with another?

Lamott is also right about the fact that it’s not really a “day off” for Mom. Most of the time, it’s more shit for her to do, with the added expectations that a holiday brings. Sure, she may get cute gifts from her kids, or breakfast in bed, but it’s not exactly a day off. And she is carrying her own baggage into the day. Emotions are running high from the jump.

I have no advice here. So long as greeting card companies, restaurants, and 1-800-FLOWERS are making money hand over fist, there’s no escaping the gauntlet. For me, personally, I text the moms in my life and then put the phone away. I stay off social media on Mother’s Day. There was one year the barrage of Instagram posts of happy people and their moms was just too heartbreaking to bear, even though I know most of it is performative.

If Mother’s Day is hard for you³, I am sending a big hug your way. It’s not weird or irrational. You are not selfish or self-centered, and you are not a spoil sport who hates fun. It’s okay to honor your feelings, and set boundaries where you need to. The good news is that it’s only one day. And like every other day, we’ll get through it.

I’d say I’m looking forward to whatever Annie and Talula get me, but in past years they’ve gotten me nothing, except maybe the privilege of cleaning a dingleberry.

They will spend Sunday like they do every other day - looking at birdies and squirrels and mostly ignoring me

If you have Mother’s Day gripes, or stories, please leave them in the comments! Let it be a Mother’s Day Festivus.

1. I only remember ONE fun Mother’s Day. It involved my grandmother, carousel horses, and a lot of laughter. Maybe I’ll write about that one day.

2. One time, a lady grabbed me by my tie because her beef salad was taking too long. I quit that job not long after. The Upper East Side was not a fun place to wait tables.

3. If Mother’s Day is somehow NOT hard for you, I hope you have a lovely day, sincerely!