When I was little, I remember asking my parents why there wasn't a Kids' Day.
"Because every day is Kids' Day," my dad would say.
At the time, I didn't get it. There was no designated day for presents and going to an amusement park just because we were kids. But now I understand. Parents work tirelessly every day on their children's behalf to make sure they have life's necessities and even some niceties.
But now that I'm on the other end, I still haven't identified with Mother's Day. Even though it's the role that most defines me from the moment I wake up to the moment I lay down, and get back up -- again, and again, and again throughout the night.
Over the past few weeks, many of my coworkers had asked whether I was excited about my first go at the holiday.
"Sure," I'd say. But the truth is, it doesn't feel like a good fit. Gold heart pendants with #1 MOM spelled out in diamond chips isn't quite my style. I love being a mother, but it's not something I need to advertise around my neck.
For me, this day feels more about my mom than ever before. Now I know she carried me around before I could walk. She rocked me to sleep when I cried without reason. She encouraged me before I understood what her support meant.
And before her, it was my grandma. And, before her, my great-grandmother. And so on.
This day suddenly feels like a tribute to all of the women before me. And all the others who wear spit-up on their sleeves as a badge of honor. Or muddy fingerprints. Or bank accounts that have cleared checks for everything from little league and medicine for runny noses to car insurance and college tuition.
It isn't about gold pendants and baskets of flowers. It isn't about cards and breakfast in bed.
It's about the women who give tirelessly of themselves out of love every day.
I just hope I can follow in their footsteps.