Mothers make us feel special on all 365 days. Their love has carried on from day to day, week to week, year to year, decade to decade, right until this moment.

They never wait for an occasion to shower us with affection or surprise us with little gestures. Every date on the calendar is an opportunity to make us happy.

But we can’t say the same about ourselves, can we?


I mean, Mother’s Day just went by. Half of us set reminders. Half of us wouldn’t have even remembered had it not been for the Internet (#Guilty?).

We all rushed at the last minute to pick up presents and cards for our beloved mothers or book dinner tables at their favourite restaurants.

Many of us cancelled other plans because the day was reserved only for dear mom. We ate and drank, laughed and celebrated. We took a few photos. We had a good, memorable time.

But now what?

Our one excuse to pamper her is gone. And we’re back to square one.


The event has been wrapped up, only to return next year. There’ll be a birthday or something else in between. We’ll do the same thing.

Then we’ll inevitably get back to being busy and disconnected again. Alas, no more time for mom. No time for anyone but us, our relationships, careers, vacations, concerts, and you know, other millennial-age stuff.

Imagine if our mothers had done that. We would’ve all been doomed, depressed, neglected souls, starving for attention. If they had gotten in touch with us once in a while, shit would’ve been different.

But we’re the kids, right? We deserve much more than our mothers because that’s just how it is. Our ticking minutes on the clock are a lot more precious. 

A parent’s duty is protocol. The child’s duty is a choice.

That’s just so sad. I do it myself sometimes, and I see it happening all around me.

I really, really hope we’re better than this. Seriously, these women kept us in their bodies and brought us into this wonderful world after a lot of toil and pain. After that, they’ve done everything in their power to be there for us at every damn step of the way.

They can’t even go a day without asking if we’ve had lunch. If we miss a meal, it makes them restless. Why should they care? We’re old enough to eat when we’re hungry, right?

But that’s how they are. And this is how we are.

I guess we’ll know what they did for us when we have our own kids. When we go through what they do, and experience all that they did.

This journey for our mothers has already been hard and taxing enough. But are we doing anything to make it better? With or without us, they’re still there. 

Unfortunately, now they only get to be with us when we want it, when we have a few minutes to spare.

In a manner of speaking, our mothers are at our beck and call. No disrespect intended, obviously. But that’s the harsh truth. We take all we can but give so little in return.

The worst part is that they don’t ever seem to mind. They’re good if we’re good. If we go for a vacation, they feel like they’ve seen a new place. If we eat, they’re full. If we win a laurel, it’s their victory. Whatever makes us happy makes them happy.

My god, they’re such selfless creatures.

Why is everything else so damn important? If we want to chill in our rooms and get some alone time, we send our moms out. We’d rather be on the phone while sitting right next to them, letting the silence continue.


“What’s up, mom?” doesn’t cut it. Do we ever really try to find out how they’re doing, what they’re really feeling? Do we try to find out if there’s anything we can do to share the load?

Nope. We crib even if we’re asked to run to the supermarket for milk.

Because there’s just so much cooler shit to do, even when we’re home. Like talking to the best friend for 2 hours, checking out Facebook for 3 hours or watching the latest Netflix series till midnight.

Sorry, moms. We’re too cool for you.

I don’t know, man. I just feel that being there for mothers doesn’t have to be such a treat for them. It could be sort of a regular thing, even if we stay away. Distance only makes the heart grow fonder, or so they say.

Cheesy and clichéd as it sounds, why the hell can’t everyday be something like a Mother’s Day? It’s just the small things that count, the tiniest gestures that matter. A sweet present here, a heartfelt conversation there.

We’re here because of them. Quite literally. Let’s make them know we appreciate it, every single day.