Susie O’Brien: Remember when it was safe to say happy Mother’s Day

While there’s a need to be inclusive and mindful that not all kids have a mum on Mother’s Day, celebrating Non-Gender Specific Care Person’s Day doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.

Mother’s Day used to be simple.

Kids would wake up early and cook (burn) breakfast.

“Eggs, how did you know I love them so hard?”, “Toast! How did you know I love it all dry and black like that?”, “MasterChef here we come, kids!”

Mums would be showered with homemade presents like necklaces made out of pasta (hopefully uncooked) and photo frames made from (slightly smelly) egg shells.

I even spent one Mother’s Day with an ice cream container “hat” decorated with feathers and tied under my chin with a ribbon.

That was a gift that lasted all day, as my three-year-old son insisted I wear it everywhere.

I remember bumping into other mums wearing bright blue plastic Peters two-litre neapolitan tubs on our heads at the supermarket, grinning foolishly at each other.

One year my son brought home a letter he’d written all about me, dictated to the kinder teacher.

“Her favourite food is vegetables and she really loves making our house clean for us.”

“My mum loves yellow wine and naps on the couch when she’s had a lot of them,” it said. “She also loves adult tv shows.”

“I really love my mum.”

But even this most basic of days has become quite complicated.

In 2024, even Mother’s Day has become complicated.

A private school in Sydney, Hunter Valley Grammar, has provoked discussion by renaming its Mother’s Day sale a “Family Gift Stall” in a bid to be more inclusive.

One mother said it made her upset as she didn’t want to send “the message to students that mums are no more important than anyone else in their lives they think are special”.

A number of schools here, including one on the Bellarine Peninsula, are also starting to move away from Mother’s Day.

The primary school holds a Superwoman Stall ahead of Mother’s Day, raising money for a local mum’s charity. In this case, it’s responding to the needs of the community which has quite complex family issues.

Childcare centres are also holding “Parents and Carers” morning teas rather than Mother’s Day events or celebrate “Special Person’s Day” instead.

Early Childhood Australia even has a whole book dedicated to this issue, suggesting that there is a need to “balance predetermined celebrations (such as Mother’s Day, Christmas and graduations) with child-and family-focused celebrations”.

A similar tack has been taken by schools in the US and Canada, which have banned Mother’s Day and Father’s Day altogether and asked kids to celebrate it at home instead.

One Rainbow Family group wants kids to make cards reading “you’re the best” instead of “Happy Mother’s Day”.

Some are even going so far as to question use of the term mother, wanting “birthing person” used instead.

Funnily enough, I don’t think Birthing Persons Day is going to catch on.

It would be a shame to drop the term Mother’s Day altogether, says Susie O’Brien.

I understand there’s a need to be inclusive and mindful that not all kids have mums, but why not just tack on Special Person’s Day to cover all bases?

Unless there’s a good reason, it seems a pity to drop Mother’s Day altogether.

We don’t want it to be so diversified that it becomes Non-Gender Specific Care Person’s Day Celebrating the Involvement of Both Men and Women and Those who are Transgender, Intersex and Bisexual who May or May Not Have Biologically or Non-biologically Given Birth or Contributed Embryonic Matter Towards the Creation of a Child.

Imagine trying to get that on a handmade card.

I work bloody hard to be a mother, and don’t see why that shouldn’t be celebrated. It’s hard being a mum.

An internal monologue is constantly running in my head. Where are the kids? Should I be picking them up? What time does footy start? When does footy finish? What game? What oval? How many kids do I have again and when will they be old enough to move out?

Of course, I’m kidding myself. Mother’s Day, like every other day, is really about the kids.

It’s about my 20-year-old son, who’s now at uni, but still texts every night to ask about the “ETA on dinner”.

And my 18-year-old daughter, who hates me for mentioning her in a column last week. Guess what, honey? It’s my column and I just did it again.

And my 15-year-old, who spent one recent car trip teaching me all about Kendrick Lamar and Drake’s diss tracks. Nope, I’ve got no idea what that means either.

With kids like this, who needs presents?

On Sunday I’ll be hoping they make me breakfast on Mother’s Day, leaving the dishes for me to wash as a loving memory of the occasion.

Then I’ll celebrate my “day off” by watching three back-to-back games of football in the rain.

At least I won’t be wearing an ice cream container on my head.