The other day, I found myself watching “The Little Mermaid” for what felt like the millionth time. It had been years since I last saw it, yet its charm and wit still resonate, just like it did back in the ’80s. One of my favorite parts is when Ariel sings, “I’ve got gadgets and gizmos aplenty, I’ve got whosits and whatsits galore. Thingamabobs? I’ve got twenty! But who cares? No big deal, I want more…” This moment perfectly captures the idea that material possessions don’t bring true happiness—she’s longing for something deeper, like a good set of legs. As Mother’s Day approaches, I find myself reflecting on the same sentiment; I don’t need more trinkets or gadgets. What I really desire is a 5-star Yelp review on my “Mommy Page.”
Let me explain. Recently, I took a road trip with one of my adult daughters, and it became a wonderful opportunity for self-discovery as both a person and a mother. During our six-hour drive, she shared a memory from when she was around nine years old, recalling a conflict resolution theory I had once explained to her. It amazed me that she remembered such a subtle lesson, which I had completely forgotten about. “Oh, I use it all the time, Mom!” she told me. In a world where we often focus on our shortcomings, it was incredibly uplifting to hear that she still valued that moment.
Earlier in the day, she reminisced about the “criss-cross” cookies we used to bake together and the songs we sang while making them. While those memories were sweet, nothing topped hearing her acknowledge the wisdom I had imparted. This led me to ponder Mother’s Day. Retailers everywhere are preparing for the big day, and kids are gearing up to spend money on gifts that their mothers probably don’t need. Every year, my kids ask what I want, and I usually direct them toward cozy pajamas or candles—gifts that are amusing coming from someone who hardly relaxes. But this year, I’ve decided to change my request.
What I really want this Mother’s Day is a metaphorical 5-star Yelp review. I want my kids to come to brunch ready to share a special memory from their childhood. It could be about:
- An extravagant party I organized
- An occasion when I showed them mercy (of which there were many!)
- Times I helped them out of tough situations
- Family traditions that hold special meaning
As I contemplated this, countless memories of my sacrifices as a mother flooded my mind. I thought about all the hours spent driving kids to their activities. I even considered whether there should be a program to log those hours and redeem them for more time later in life. But then it hit me: it’s not my job to remember every wonderful thing I did as a mother; that’s up to my children. My role was to cherish the memories of my own mother. I often shared my appreciation for her in her later years, but I can’t help but wonder if I did so soon enough or if I mostly opted for the easy route with gifts like pajamas.
I can’t speak for all mothers, but I know what I want. Like Ariel, I have my gadgets and gizmos; I long for more meaningful connections. I propose that Mother’s Day become the new Thanksgiving of Spring. I would love to hear what my children are grateful for during my time as a mother rather than seeing them rush around spending their hard-earned cash on cards and gifts for someone who hardly gets to rest.
So kids—this Mother’s Day, save your money. Simply share a cherished memory, a lesson I taught you, or a tender moment I’ve likely forgotten amid the chaos of raising you. Ultimately, mothers just want to know that you remember. But if you insist on it, I’ll still take that bubble bath.
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In summary, what mothers truly desire this Mother’s Day isn’t material gifts but heartfelt memories and appreciation from their children. A simple acknowledgment of the moments shared and lessons learned can mean more than any store-bought item.