This year my birthday falls on Mother's Day. All I want is not to make any decisions.
My birthday always falls around Mother's Day, and this year it's the same day.
It's the first time that's happened since I became a mom.
I'm not thrilled about the pressure to decide on something extra special.
"Oh. My. Gosh," my 10-year-old proclaimed with the dramatic tone that only a pre-teen girl can muster. "Your birthday is on Mother's Day."
She was utterly in awe — what were the chances? — but I felt a bit annoyed. I peered over her shoulder toward her calendar and confirmed. There it was: May 12. Mother's Day.
"We're going to have to do something extra special," she commanded, running off to tell my husband the news. He, I'm guessing, had his own private panic about how to get this double day exactly right. And yet, as a busy mom I have only one wish for my day — to not have to make any decisions. Now, with double pressure, I knew that would be twice as hard.
I don't make a big deal of Mother's Day, but I love birthday celebrations
As a child, I loved hearing how I came home from the hospital on Mother's Day, new mom and baby delivered home in a stretch limo driven by my dad's friend. But as I got older I was selfishly annoyed at how the holiday impacted my birthday plans. The weekend closest to my celebration was never convenient for sleepover parties because my friends were at home celebrating their moms.
This is the first year Mother's Day has fallen on my birthday since I became a mom a decade ago. Usually, as an adult, I don't give much thought to Mother's Day at all. My mom and I both have May birthdays that flit around the Hallmark holiday, so it has always felt more genuine to celebrate each of us on our days of birth. I'm perfectly content with a Mother's Day where nothing special happens.
My birthday, however, is another story. I adore my birthday and love to use it as an excuse to pamper myself. My ideal birthday involves a decadent cake, my favorite ice cream, and a meaningful present — one I don't have to drop hints on. As much as I love celebrating with my loved ones, I also care about alone time on my birthday, whether a massage or a long hike in the woods. I cherish that time to reflect on my year and where I am in life.
My husband and I have had to compromise on celebrations
My husband isn't someone who places significance on birthdays, so throughout the years, we've had to compromise. He's accepted that birthday acknowledgments make me feel loved and valued, no matter how juvenile that might seem to someone who's not a birthday enthusiast. I've accepted that making outstanding birthday plans isn't something that comes naturally to him, so he might need some guidance.
Even so, when my husband asked this week, "What do you want to do for your birthday?" I felt my irritation flair. While I paused, he added, "It's Mother's Day, too," and I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
I realized that this year, more than ever, I don't want to be the decision-maker. I want someone else to choose what we're doing and where we're eating for dinner because that frees up my mental space for the ultimate gift: time for myself. Between working full time, wrangling kids, training a puppy, and revising a novel, that mental space is precious.
I know that my husband's desire to get it right comes from a place of deep love, but it also creates work for me. This year, I told him to be ready to embrace imperfection — a present that doesn't have deep meaning or a cake that isn't quite my favorite — if it means less mental energy is needed from me.
To enjoy the gift of mental space, I need to ditch the idea of a perfect day
I know I'm not the only mom who's tired or the only parent practically begging for a break from decision fatigue. I also realize that a lot of my exhaustion comes from expectations I've internalized. There's pressure to have the perfect birthday, just like there's pressure to have the perfect Mother's Day. Our society tells us we know we're really loved if those days go just right, and it's hard not to let that messaging seep into our subconscious.
Nothing about motherhood or aging or families or life in general ever unfolds just the way we want it to. If I don't want to make all the decisions around these special days, I have to realize they might not fit the exact image I have in my mind, in the same way my husband does dinner and bedtime differently than I would. Sure, I have opinions about those routines, but what I really appreciate is the effort he's putting in to be an equal, loving partner and the space that he creates for me.
Embracing that for holidays and birthdays is a gift that will last long beyond May 12, I hope.
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