I’ve written at least a few times before that “receiving gifts” is not one of my love languages. I also struggle with feeling like most holidays have become super performative on social media. And despite the fact that I know that Instagram isn’t real life, I have a hard time not falling into a comparison trap that leaves me feeling very grumpy and insecure. I do not like this about myself, but, hey, no one is perfect!
Given that I’m disinterested in gifts and depressed by social media, it should come as no surprise that I don’t really like Mother’s Day. It’s arguably the mother of all social media holidays, where our feeds become glutted with declarations of our love for our moms and our love for our children. It’s also a gangbusters season for gift guides, with everyone and their mother (ha!) rolling out posts stuffed with scented candles, monogrammed necklaces, and other (aggressively feminine) bits and baubles that we’re supposed to desire. Frankly, it all gives me the ick!
All that said, I love being a mom, and I love my mom, so I feel a tiny bit guilty disliking this holiday so much. I’m definitely overthinking it. But I also know I’m not alone in this feeling of apathy. It’s hard to be a mom—and perhaps it’s always been hard since the dawn of time. Society has unrealistic expectations of us, and then we go and put a lot of pressure on ourselves. To make matters worse, we’re not even very kind to each other—we’re so quick to judge other moms for every little thing they do that doesn’t align with our own personal goals or values or reality. And it’s really too bad that we can’t find common ground because I can only imagine how powerful we’d be if we banded together. But that kind of power is scary for men, and so they continue to encourage the Mommy Wars and just generally wear us down with their never-ending questions about what’s for dinner and have we seen their keys. (The weaponized incompetence of these guys!!)
But I didn’t plan for this newsletter to be a rant about the State of Motherhood™. I wanted to ask some of the coolest moms I know what they really want for Mother’s Day. When I reached out, I made it clear this isn’t a gift guide.1 Because is there really a present special enough to thank us for all we do? I’m inclined to say no.
Pushing back on the consumer side of this holiday seems to be a theme this season, and I love it.
of wrote a similar newsletter last week after she polled her readers, and the majority said they wanted just one thing: time alone. “[S]olitude—true, nourishing solitude—is what many of us crave most,” she wrote.It’s surprisingly difficult to request such a gift because we’re made to feel guilty for it. People come back with the retort that these busy early days of motherhood are fleeting, and we should relish them while they last. And in some ways, I feel that acutely these days, as my kid gets bigger and more independent, and I find myself with more time alone while he’s off on his own adventures. It’s bittersweet. I welcome this stage where we both get to savor our independence while still feeling nostalgic for the days when he was more dependent on me.
This year, I’m spending a long weekend with my mom in London, where, funnily enough, it’s not Mother’s Day. I’ll miss my boys, but this trip might also be my perfect way to celebrate this holiday, traveling with the woman who (literally) made me, doing all of our favorite things together: walking, talking, and shopping. (OK, OK, I promise we’ll also consume some culture!)
Ahead, nine writers I deeply admire share their answer to my question: What do you really want for Mother’s Day?
I’ll add that it was truly so hard to narrow down this group chat because there are so many writers I admire. Hopefully,
, , , , , , , , , Michelle Teheux, and others will stop by and share what they really want for Mother’s Day in the comments!Ruthie Ackerman
Let’s be clear: What moms really want—and need—the most are paid family leave, affordable childcare, flexible work, and maternal mental health and reproductive care.
In this fantasy world, where all of these basic support systems were taken care of, we want to be seen as full humans with hopes, dreams, and identities outside of our children (and other caretaking duties). We want to be writers and mothers. Scientists and mothers. And whatever else we can dream up and mothers, too. Women’s lives aren’t either/or. We can mother without annihilating every other part of ourselves.
Oh, and while we’re at it, we want to spend the morning in bed with hot coffee (refills, please!) and a book from our TBR pile.
is the author of The Mother Code, the founder of The Ignite Writers Collective, and the mother of a daughter.
L’Oreal Thompson Payton
Personally, I want a full-day spa experience—not just a massage, but the whole menu: facial, 180-minute massage (yes, three hours, minimum), manicure, spa pedicure, the works. Then I want to be dropped off at a cozy cafe with an iced lavender matcha oat milk latte, lo-fi beats in the background, and a solid, uninterrupted hour to work on my memoir without anyone asking me for anything. After that? I want to be left alone with a steamy romance novel starring a Black woman (Jasmine Guillory or Kennedy Ryan, obviously) and a big cozy blanket. No emails, no dishes, no interruptions. Just rest, creativity, and a little bit of peace.
is the author of Stop Waiting for Perfect, founder of the newsletter, and the mother of a daughter.
Alisha Ramos
I’m hoping to get a few candid photos of me and my daughter—ideally from a moment when I’m not in my standard-issue sweatshirt and lounge pants (which, bless him, is what my sweet husband tends to capture). You know the meme: “proof of mom.” I think about it all the time. We take entire camera rolls’ worth of sweet, glow-y, perfectly composed shots of our partners and our kids and somehow rarely have any heartwarming moments captured featuring ourselves! If you want to go the extra mile, I would get the photo framed—or even hire a professional photographer to do a shoot. To me, this is a perfect gift.
is the creator of , a bestselling newsletter dedicated to making your off-hours count. She’s the mother of a daughter.
Claire Zulkey
That’s easy. I would like for Mother’s Day to take place at another time of year. For me personally, we have probably a half dozen family birthdays that take place between April and early June, not to mention Memorial Day and first communions and graduations and Easter in the mix, so Mother’s Day feels like a bit of a groan, another obligation to check off. Moreover there is always that looming feeling that Father’s Day is just a month away, so while you’re putting your flowers in a vase, you’re asking your spouse what he wants for his big day. So let’s reschedule Mother’s Day for sometime between, say, late June and October 25. Is that so much to ask?
is the founder of the , a newsletter for people who happen to be mothers, and the mother of two boys.
Stefanie O’Connell Rodriguez
I’d love to spend one full 24-hour period alone. As much as full-time childcare has been a game changer, as the mom of a one-and-half-year-old, I don’t know that I’ve ever fully recharged since before my daughter was born. That’s in part because I’ve never spent 24 hours away from her. And when I’m around, she always has me on call. It’s wonderful but exhausting.
Stefanie O’Connell Rodriguez is in the middle of writing her first book about women and ambition. She’s the mother of a daughter.
Amanda Hess
I love reading the old columns of Antoinette Konikow, a Russian-born doctor, Marxist, and feminist who promoted what she called “voluntary motherhood” and was an early advocate for birth control in America. In 1940, Konikow took on Mother’s Day for the Socialist Appeal, where she cut through the consumerist sentimentality of the holiday: “Today mother is feted with candy and flowers and gifts,” she wrote. “Today, by order of the bosses, everyone remembers mother. Tomorrow and tomorrow, for 364 tomorrows mother continues to struggle with problems created by those very bosses and their system—poverty, unemployment, hunger, want, disease, and the scourge which often deprives her of her motherhood: war.”
In December, UNICEF found that a “record number of children affected by conflict are having their rights violated, including being killed and injured, out of school, missing life-saving vaccines, and being critically malnourished.” For Mother’s Day, in lieu of flowers, I want no mother to lose her child to war. I want my children to grow up in a country that refuses to support such wars. I want to go to work each day, producing tax income that is not used to fund the deaths of other mothers’ children. I want Konikow’s columns to be less relevant in 2025.
Amanda Hess is the author of Second Life, a critic-at-large for the Culture section of The New York Times, and the mother of two kids.
Rebecca Gale
What I want on Mother’s Day each year is an absolute break from decision making while having the confidence that the people in my life will spend extra time wondering exactly what it is that I want and how to deliver it to me.
It seems that on one side of Mother’s Day, the asks are: “Tell us what you want” and “What time should dinner be?” and “Can you pick up salmon at Whole Foods?” Or, my son will make a beautiful homemade cake, but he doesn’t quite clean the dishes and needs help frosting it, and no one can find the cake stand. Or the default low-mental-load offer of: “If it’s too much to make dinner, why don’t we just get takeout?” I might be one of the only people out there who would rather scramble eggs and eat baby carrots than deal with everyone’s takeout order and preferences and the damn online apps!
What I really want is someone out there who knows what I want and delivers it in a stealth way—including the meal prepped and kitchen clean—zero mental labor required on my end. Only then does the day actually seem like something I’d enjoy. Oh, and maybe a foot rub thrown in. But maybe that’s a bridge too far. :)
Rebecca Gale is a staff writer at the Better Life Lab, and the creator of , a newsletter about caregiving, child care, parenting, and policy. She’s mother of three kids.
Hitha Palepu
I don't really have a wish list for Mother’s Day. This year, it happens to be my younger son’s birthday, and my mom and mother-in-law will be with us to celebrate him and to be celebrated as well. I love quality time with my family and enjoying Wegmann’s classic birthday cake—and I love some solo time for myself.
This year, I want to wake up with the curtains and windows already open, a cool breeze gently wafting through the room. I want a latte waiting for me in a temperature-controlled tumbler, ready to be sipped. I want to meditate and journal with zero interruption, and I want to go for a long walk on the trail behind our home while listening to an audiobook. Ideally, I’d like to do all of these things before my kids are awake—and to have enough time to run to Dunkin’ and get some birthday donuts for Rhaki.
It’s not the big family brunch or a solo night alone in a hotel, but this moment to myself would be the perfect way to start my Mother’s Day.
is the author of We’re Speaking: The Life Lessons of Kamala Harris, host of That Desi Spark, creator of the newsletter, and mother of two boys.
Neha Ruch
“Words of affirmation” are my love language, and I know I’m not alone in that.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about why we share the corners of our life with the kids on Instagram Stories. I realized it’s about pride. It’s a small window into the effort, creativity, emotional stamina, research, and organization that goes into parenting—so much of which happens behind the scenes and often goes unacknowledged.
To that end, I would love nothing more than a long written list of the things my husband and kids notice and appreciate about what I do for them. Ideally, it would be exhaustive.
Because at the end of the day, we do this work out of love. But it also feels good to know we’re doing it well.
Neha Ruch is the author of The Power Pause and founder of Mother Untitled, the leading platform for ambitious women leaning into family life. She’s the mother of two kids.
A big thank-you to everyone who shared their wishes here! I hope their spouses are reading this! And a very happy Mother’s Day to all the moms and motherly figures out there, including sisters, aunts, best friends, teachers, cousins, work wives, and fairy godmothers.
Random Extras:
Can I brag for a minute about the cool shit happening to friends featured in this newsletter? First off,
got a BOOK DEAL!! And then ’s amazing newsletter, , was FEATURED in The New York Times! A big congrats to them both!ICYMI:
wrote an incredibly transparent and helpful piece about the money mistakes she made in her marriage. So many good takeaways!For this month’s paid subscriber giveaway, I was inspired by
’s Mother’s Day wish. One lucky reader will win one $25 gift certificate to the bookstore of their choice, one $25 gift certificate to the coffee shop of their choice, and a $25 donation to the charity of their choice. I’ll also be donating 20% of all new paid subscriptions during the month of May to Moms Demand Action.2
It might not be a gift guide, but many of the women on this list have written awesome books you might want to check out!
The sweepstakes is limited to readers within the U.S. It closes at 11:59 p.m. ET on May 31, 2025. To enter without upgrading to a paid subscription, please reply to this email by 11:59 p.m. ET on May 31, 2025, that you would like to be entered in the sweepstakes. If there are any further questions, simply respond to this email, and I will do my best to answer them.
thank you for not doing a consumerist gift guide! Mothers day 2020 was one of the low points of my life, and since then I've planned a really fun outing with mom friends NOT on mothers day (usually the sunday after because our area has multiple college graduations and every activity/restaurant is jammed) This year I'm going with 7 other moms to the sauna and brunch on May 18. Knowing this is coming takes the stakes way down for actual mothers day.
There is a historical home walking tour in a fancy neighborhood of Coronado that always falls on Mother's Day. The first year I went with another mom friend, I was heavily pregnant and she had a toddler at home. Since then, we have gone together every Mother's Day--it's honestly such a joy to have a morning to ourselves to enjoy something we truly love (homes! decor! oohing and aahing!). Having that morning to myself to NOT mom is probably the best Mother's Day gift I could have. A close second is in the afternoon of Mother's Day, all of the dads in our neighborhood take the kids to the playground--so the moms all have an afternoon of silence!!