Local Opinion: Feeling conflicted about Mother's Day? Start your own tradition.

I had been a mom for just nine weeks when I learned the unspoken truth about Mother’s Day.

It was my first time experiencing the holiday as a parent, and my husband was earnestly cleaning the house and preparing to host a family barbecue. I was still navigating postpartum hormones as I paced the hallway, bouncing our infant in my arms. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation or the fatigue from round-the-clock nursing, but my mind started to wander.

I always imagined Mother’s Day would be some kind of a break, but this feels like every other day. I really appreciate all my partner is doing to make the holiday special. So why do I feel an overwhelming urge to hand him the baby and run? Does that make me a bad mom?

Suddenly, the paradoxical truth of Mother’s Day snapped into focus. On a day devoted to motherhood, I was expected to be with my child. Yet to truly relax and unwind, I would need to step away from parenting duties. What was a mom to do?As years passed, and my family expanded, I heard whispers of discontent from other moms. Some single mom friends felt invisible on Mother’s Day. Other women spent the day celebrating their own mother, but no one reciprocated the gesture. For friends who had lost their mothers, many wished the day would disappear entirely.

For me, Mother’s Day felt more like Groundhog Day. Yes, there were cards and flowers, but I was still changing diapers, feeding babies and breaking up toddler fights. In an effort to reconcile my conflicted emotions, I sat down and typed a message to my friends:

Every year I secretly wish that I could celebrate part of Mother’s Day weekend surrounded by my fellow moms, not a child in sight. Well this year, Sunday is for spending the day with the kids. But Saturday is just for us!

The plan was simple. We would meet the afternoon before Mother’s Day on a downtown restaurant’s patio, leaving plenty of time to get home for baby bedtime routines. There were only two rules: no children allowed and no talk about kids.

As the familiar faces of friends appeared in the courtyard that day, I could feel our collective stress melt under the setting sun. We spent a few blissful hours laughing, catching up and pushing aside the responsibilities awaiting us back home. When my husband arrived to whisk me away in our minivan that evening, my proverbial cup was full.And the next morning? The frustration I usually felt on Mother’s Day was gone. I was delighted to receive my children’s version of breakfast in bed — bread slathered with peanut butter and a can of seltzer water — and felt genuinely grateful to spend the day with them. Maybe, I thought, I’ll have to make this Saturday ritual a tradition. That’s exactly what happened. Every second Saturday in May, friends and I convene to play pool, order fancy desserts or watch a backyard movie. When COVID-19 hit, I threw on a sequined dress, grabbed a bottle of wine and hosted the party over Zoom. As the world around us was sinking, the beaming faces of these women reminded me that in them, I’d always have an anchor.

In fact, the heart of this tradition has always been connecting with friends who support each other through the highs and lows of motherhood. While I no longer feel the new-mom desperation to run away from Mother’s Day, I still crave the community, wisdom and grace found in these women. Their presence is the final piece that makes this holiday feel complete.

That’s why this year, I will again set aside an evening to relax and refuel with friends. If this vision of Mother’s Day resonates with you, I encourage you to do the same. You just may find it’s the start of a beautiful new tradition.