Mother's Day: For Every Versions of Us

Thoughts from the Floor, written by someone doing their best

Stumbling, surviving, still here

Mother’s Day has became a complicated day for me — not in a dramatic, movie‑scene way, but in that quiet, ache‑in-the-chest way that sneaks up on you when you’re waiting for the coffee to finish brewing or driving to work.

My mother is gone. And even though I’m “okay” — truly okay — there are about a few days a year when the grief taps me on the shoulder like, “Hey, remember me?” Mother’s Day is one of those days. She passed not long before Mother’s Day, so the holiday always carries a little extra weight. Not heavy enough to crush me, but enough that I feel it.

I don’t talk about it often. Not because it’s a secret, but because sometimes it just… doesn’t come to mind. Grief is weird like that. It’s not always loud. It’s not showing up dramatic. For me it’s more like a soft bruise you forget about until something bumps it.

Then there’s the other side of my life — the part where I’m the mother now. A mother to more grown children than little ones. My “baby” is fifteen, which feels impossible because I swear, I just taught her how to hold a spoon. Time is rude like that.

I’m not a grandmother yet — thank goodness — but I honor the ones who are. And I honor the ones who want to be. And the ones who don’t want to be. And the ones who are secretly hoping their kids wait at least another decade.

I’ve also lost babies I never got to meet — and that counts. That grief counts. That love counts. Those tiny souls count. I carry them with me, too.

I am also raising my cats. Yes, I’m including them. Because if you’ve ever parented a cat, you know they are basically toddlers with sharper claws and worse decision-making skills. They get into everything they shouldn’t, ignore every boundary you set, and somehow still expect you to feed them like royalty. So to the fur‑mommas: I see you. You are doing real work.

I also see the dads who are out here being both mom and dad — showing up, holding it down, doing the emotional labor, the physical labor, the “where are your shoes” labor. Thank you for making loving homes on the days that feel impossible.

I see the mothers and grandmothers who are transitioning through grief, loss, estrangement, or distance. I cannot pretend to understand every version of that pain, but I can hold space for you. I can honor you. I can say: you are not invisible today.

Motherhood — in all its forms — is not one story.

It’s a thousand stories braided together. Some joyful. Some heartbreaking. Some chaotic. Some hilarious. Some still being written.

So today, I’m giving you all virtual flowers — the kind that don’t wilt, don’t need watering, and won’t trigger anyone’s allergies. Flowers for every walk of motherhood you’re in.

Because here’s the truth: You are not alone. There is support out there. There are people who get it. There are people who see you. And even on the days when you feel like you’re barely staying afloat, you are still showing up with a heart that refuses to quit.

My kids — all of them,even the one that have adopted me as friend momma, the ones here and the ones I never got to meet — are the reason I keep showing up, too. I want them to see me doing better so they know I’ll stay to see them doing better. That’s the kind of legacy I want to leave.

Three Self‑Care Tips for Every Kind of Mother (Funny, Real, and Actually Doable)

1. The “Leave Me Alone for 10 Minutes” Reset

Find a room. Any room. Bathroom, closet, laundry room — I don’t judge. Set a timer for ten minutes and let your brain breathe. No guilt. No multitasking. No “I should be doing something productive.” Just you, your breath, and the sweet sound of nobody asking you where their socks are.

2. The “Bare Minimum Spa Day”

You don’t need candles, cucumbers, or a robe that costs more than your electric bill. Try this instead:

• Wash your face with warm water

• Put lotion on your hands

• Drink something that isn’t cold coffee

• Stretch your shoulders like you’re trying to reach the top shelf at Target Boom. Spa day. Certified.

3. The “Say No Without Explaining” Challenge

Pick one thing today — just one — and say no to it. No explanation. No apology. Just “No, not today.” It’s a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger you get. And honestly, it feels delicious.

To Every Mother, Every Version, Every Story

I hope today brings you rest. I hope it brings you love. I hope it brings you a moment — even a small one — where you feel valued, seen, and appreciated for the way you give all year long.

You deserve softness. You deserve care. You deserve to be held, too.

Happy Mother’s Day

Till we meet at the next resting point, whenever and wherever it finds us.

A messy human, doing their best— Robin Lynn