What Moms* Really Want**

*I; **for Mother's Day, especially, but every day, honestly

maryoliversdrunkcousin

A post shared by @maryoliversdrunkcousin

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve been inundated with two types of Mother’s Day content.

The first is critical and impassioned. It bemoans the idea that one day of flowers and/or breakfast in bed is supposed to suffice; that this annual gesture somehow checks the box of appreciation. These pieces call this out as an insult when so much of the burden of caregiving and emotional labor remains squarely on mothers’ shoulders the other 364 days of the year. What we really need, they argue, is systemic change. Real support. Redistribution of labor. A cultural shift.

The second type is more humorous, at least on the surface. It’s the kind of content that leans into the familiar trope: all a mom really wants for Mother’s Day is to be left alone. You’ve seen the meme-y posts about solo hotel stays, uninterrupted naps, a hot coffee and a book and a silent room. And they’re funny… but the kind of funny that makes your chest tighten a little because they hit too close to home. You know, laugh-so-you-don’t-cry funny.

I’ve been wondering if these two messages are actually two sides of the same coin.

Burnout

I can no longer participate in
world breastfeeding week
memes about tired mothers
nurseries dressed in millennial pink

I cannot discuss potty training
sleep schedules and noise machines
how to fix a 30-minute meal and
keep our children healthy

I cannot take one more minute of conversation
on strollers or video games
your mother’s cruel suggestions
what so-and-so says is her trick for
making time for daddy

no
I did not / will not / could not
know what it is to be a good mother
when mother is already heavy enough

Kate Baer

Because, for the most part, I don’t think moms really want to be away from their kids on Mother’s Day. Not entirely. I think what we’re craving is time with our families -our partners, our children - but in a way that feels nourishing. We want to be wrapped in love and warmth but free from responsibility. We want joy without having to make the magic ourselves. We want connection without being climbed on.

But that’s such an impossible fantasy for many of us that the next best thing becomes a few hours - or if you’re really lucky, a day - of solitude. A temporary reprieve from the constant vigilance, from the never-ending multitasking, from being touched, needed, relied upon every waking second. Alone time becomes the only viable route to rest.

To be with our dependents and not actively managing their every need requires something that so few of us actually have: a deep, functional support system. A culture that respects caregiving. A partner who not only “helps” but shares - proactively, equally, and consistently. It requires not just individual acts of kindness or gratitude but a complete reimagining of who holds what and when and why.

So don’t mistake the longing for solitude as a rejection of our families. It’s a reflection of how deeply we love them and how desperately we want to experience that love in a way that doesn’t deplete us.