Mud & Mayhem

Mother’s Day in theory is a magical day.

It’s the one day a year where sleeping in is not only allowed but encouraged. Where a two hour spa trip doesn’t require a formal apology to anyone. Where taking a shower — alone, in peace, without a small person narrating it from the other side of the door — is considered a gift. It is, on paper, your day.

And then mom guilt shows up. Uninvited. As always.

Here’s what’s funny about mom guilt — dads don’t fully get it. They try, bless them, but the concept of feeling bad for sleeping in on the one day literally designated for you to sleep in is not something that translates easily. Mom guilt is a uniquely unhinged experience and I say that with full love for everyone living it.

Because here’s the truth nobody tells you: that extra hour or two of sleep? You actually need it. Not just for you — for them. A well-rested mom is a significantly more patient mom. When the kids are screaming and climbing the walls, a rested version of you can watch it happen and think look at these expressive little humans finding their voice. An exhausted version of you is just white-knuckling it until nap time and hoping nobody asks you a single question before coffee.

Sleep in. You will be better for it. They will benefit from it. This is science.

But here’s the other thing nobody tells you — mom brains don’t actually shut off. Ever. That glorious sleep in? You can still hear everything. The running. The falling. The crying. The very specific sound of something that probably shouldn’t have happened. You’re horizontal, yes. Resting, debatable. One ear is always on.

And it doesn’t stop there. It doesn’t matter if you’re at the nail salon or on a walk or finally sitting down with your book in actual silence — if you’re within a five mile radius of your house, there is a little thread attached to your heart that is constantly being tugged. You should go back. They need you. How dare you enjoy this.

How dare you, indeed. You absolute monster. Sitting there getting your nails done like some kind of person who deserves nice things.

I have never figured out how to make that feeling go away. I’m not sure it does. It somehow gets louder when you’re away — you miss them like crazy, and the guilt follows you right out the door and into whatever moment you carved out for yourself.

But here’s what I keep coming back to: you cannot pour from an empty cup. You’ve heard it a thousand times because it’s annoyingly true. The version of you that shows up after a little rest, a little quiet, a little time that was just yours — that version is better. More patient. More present. More everything they need.

So this Mother’s Day — and every ordinary Tuesday after it — take the shower. Sleep in. Go get your nails done without texting home every twenty minutes. You are allowed to have a moment that belongs entirely to you.

The guilt will probably still show up. Let it sit in the waiting room. You’ll get to it later.

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Does the mom guilt ever actually go away? Any tips for truly letting yourself enjoy a moment of time for you? Drop them in the comments — I’m genuinely asking.