Ohhh Mother’s Day. So many opinions, so little chocolate. Is it Merry or Messy for you. Here are my honest reflections.
It only took me about 10 years (no big deal) to train my husband into understanding one very simple thing:
Mother’s Day = gifts from the kids. Not a random thing he picked up because “we have to do something.”
Not because mom “expects a present.”
Just something the kids choose — messy, weird, full of glitter — the good stuff.
Now, bless him, but my husband is one of those “Mother’s Day is just a commercial trap” types.
Unpopular opinion — at least in most mom circles.
He doesn’t do commercial holidays. Says it’s all just to make you spend money.
My opinion?
It’s not about spending. (Okay, okay, also I just really love gifts. Sue me.)
I don’t just love getting them (though let’s be honest, that part slaps).
I genuinely love giving them too — surprising friends, cheering people up, just because.
But Mother’s Day? That one’s personal.
So after a decade of weird presents (yes, he once gave me a bra wash ball — don’t ask), forgotten gifts, or just blank stares when I mentioned it was coming up… I cracked.
I made a list. An online wish list.
It’s there all year. I spot something I like, I drop it on the list. No pressure. No guessing. Just a little digital trail of hints.
Spoiled? Maybe. But at least the kids don’t cry anymore because Dad “picked the wrong thing” and “they didn’t get to choose.”
Fair trade, right?
This year? We’ve made progress.
My daughter — full-on mini-me — is a gift-giving queen. She loves giving more than getting, always wants to brighten someone’s day, and shops for souvenirs for her friends when we’re on holiday.
She gets it.
And my son? He’s been the quiet MVP of Operation Teach-Dad-To-Gift for the past decade. He’s subtle, but he knows what’s up.
So this year…
Mini-me came home from school on Friday, clutching her self-made Mother’s Day treasures.
She whispered to me not to look, then dragged Dad to the playroom with the intensity of a top-secret spy mission.
She hide the gifts (because clearly, Mom doesn’t know every hiding spot), showed Dad her creations, and spent Saturday night wrapping them with a sparkle in her eye:
“Mom is going to be soooo happy.”
And that’s the moment, my darlings, when the real magic kicks in — memory-mode activated.
And I freaking LIVED for it.
My son? Cool as ever. Silent. Mysterious. Smiling in the corner because he knows the surprise is going to land.
And guess what? It did.
Mini gifted me the cutest homemade stuff from school, picked out a cozy sweater, and together they chose haircare and skincare goodies (so yes, I might have helped a little by dropping hints on that list… don’t judge).
Then, just when I thought the day was over, they sent me upstairs “to do laundry” (lol, ok sure), just so they could prep dinner.
I overheard her whisper:
“Mom is going to be so happy with all of this.”
And that right there?
That’s the kind of love that hits you straight in the heart. So yes — this year, Mother’s Day was a big, fat, sparkly YAY.
Commercial or not, what’s so wrong with making someone feel loved?
Could it have included no homework, no laundry, and breakfast not at 6:45 AM? Sure.
But I went to bed a happy, full-hearted, grateful-as-hell mom.
And yes — I do carry a soft spot for the women who long to be moms and can’t, for any reason.
You are seen.
Always.
