Mother's Day Is Over, But the Conversation Isn't

Before I Get into It

Mother's Day has come and gone, and I've been sitting with something I want to say: There is no wrong way to spend Mother's Day when you are the mother, not a single wrong way — and I'll tell you why I feel that so deeply this year.

Before I get started, let me say that if you're one of the moms who didn't really get your day, who spent it taking care of everyone else, didn't get what you needed, or just didn't feel seen, I want you to hear this: Don't let your next Mother's Day be for anyone except you, Momma.

I Got in the Car and Left

Now, let me tell you about mine first.

The Saturday night before Mother's Day, I brought home a 12-inch sub from my favorite spot, about 30 minutes away. We had already talked about how it would be divided. I sat down on the couch, and when I got up to eat, my husband and Khari were both finishing off a six-inch. There was a misunderstanding that left me standing there hungry. What made it worse? Khari laughed. No, she cracked all the way up! I was pissed and went to bed hungry … and angry.

When I woke up Mother's Day morning, I was still a little salty, and instead of sitting in it, I got in my car and drove an hour south, alone, to Athens, Ohio, to Ohio University, my school, my place from 1997 to 2001, before all the real-life obligations of adulting and motherhood. Anyway, it was raining the whole way there, and I didn't care.

I walked into the old bookstore, and this time, I could actually afford more than a sweatshirt. (That felt good.) I started browsing for myself, and then it hit me: One of my students, whom I absolutely adore, will be starting at OU in the fall. Here I was, standing in her future school's bookstore, thinking only about myself … I couldn't do it. I had to hook her up, so I did.

I drove past the bars, restaurants, and library and headed toward Jefferson Hill, but there was construction going on up there. (I definitely felt some type of way about it.) I wanted to drive up that hill that I used to dread walking up in my junior year. Then I found myself wondering whether they were replacing the brick road — and, if so, whether anyone actually voted on it. Did anyone have a say … because I feel like I should have. (Maybe I'm taking it too far. I digress.)

I drove past my old dorms and apartment, past my friends' old places, and even past the church I didn't attend very often. I saw how much had changed; I noticed how much had stayed the same.

Don't judge me, but I ate McDonald's — a Big Mac meal with an Arnold Palmer. (They used unsweetened tea, and I wasn't even upset about it.) That meal hit exactly the way it was supposed to. I went to Ollie's, a store that wasn't there when I went there, and bought a bunch of knick-knacks and things I probably didn't need. I drove around with no agenda and no obligations.

On the way home, the sun came out, and I felt so much better!

Monday's Lesson

Now — about Khari's little butt … The day after Mother's Day, I stopped at On Da Runn after work, a food truck we both love, and I got ribs. When I picked up Khari from school, and we got to my mom's house to visit her, Khari caught wind of those ribs and came straight for me — because she knows I always share my food with her.

I looked at her and said, "No. I'll get you something from somewhere else."

She was salty! LOL! … She deserved to be; I wanted her to be.

I got her some other lame meal, and while she sat with that, I explained to her that I look out for her more than anyone else on the face of this earth, and for her to laugh at my (favorite) food being eaten while I was standing there hungry was wrong. I reminded her that when people "play in my face," I return the favor. I told her I hoped she'd remember that the next time she's tempted to be rude or inconsiderate — to me or to anyone else. I also told her that she needs to remember that anytime anyone plays in her face.

We left my mom's and I took her to dance class for her upcoming New Edition recital. Then, we went back to my mom's, and that's when I gave her the rest of my ribs because that's what moms do. We make our point, hold the line, and then feed your little ungrateful behind anyway — because the love never actually stopped.

This Is for Every Mom

Here's what people don't say enough: Motherhood is a 24/7 commitment — not a 9-to-5 and not "when it's convenient." Good moms are on around the clock, every single day, whether they feel like it or not. They show up when they're tired, when they're sick, and when their own heart is heavy. Moms figure it out and keep going … SO when ONE day rolls around that's supposed to be for you, Momma, you get to define what that means.

• Option A: You want brunch with the babies, family photos, all the noise and love — yes. Go for it. That really is a beautiful way to spend your day.

• Option B: You want brunch with the ladies or to get in your car, drive somewhere that reminds you of who you were before everybody needed something from you, eat a Big Mac in peace, and just breathe — also yes. That, too, is beautiful and well-deserved.

Neither option requires an explanation or an apology.

Motherhood doesn't take a day off, so when Mother's Day comes, however you choose to spend it is the right choice because YOU are the one who earned it. I hope it was good to you because you deserved that.

Whether your Mother's Day was everything you needed or nothing close to it, I hope this finds you well, and I hope that by the time next May rolls around, you've already decided: Mother's Day is for you, nobody else, just you.

Share this with a mom who needs the permission to just be. 💛