Navigating Mother’s Day in a Neurodiverse Family
Realities vs. Expectations: Navigating Mother’s Day in a Neurodiverse Family
A few days have passed since Mother’s Day, and I’m still processing the events that unfolded in our family. Growing up, my memories of Mother’s Day for my own mum were simple but heartfelt—making breakfast (cutting heart shapes out of bread, toasting them, and covering them in strawberry jam), crafting homemade cards, and doing my best to be extra good (which mostly meant trying not to argue with my sister).
Before becoming a mum, my expectations for Mother’s Day sat somewhere between this and the picture-perfect scenes from The Waltons. Safe to say, this is not what Mother’s Day looks like in my house.
The Reality Check
For my children, “being extra good” is an unsustainable challenge, even for the shortest amount of time. The weight of expectation looms over the day, and when they feel they’ve fallen short, their disappointment manifests in even more challenging behaviour. Feeling bad often leads to the default survival strategy of making sure a sibling fails too—pressing buttons, telling tales, and ensuring that no one walks away unscathed.
Despite telling myself to expect nothing—to treat it as just another Sunday to avoid the inevitable pressure—I still found myself needing a 20-minute drive in my car, alone, trying to process the stark contrast between my hopes and what actually happened. And yet, despite my own best efforts, Mother’s Day still became one of those high-risk, low-reward days.
The Emotional Tug-of-War
No matter how much I rationalise it, I still feel the sting of disappointment when reality doesn’t match the dream. It’s not about gifts or grand gestures; it’s about the longing for a day where love and appreciation flow effortlessly. But for my children, the contrast between what they want to be able to do and what is actually possible can be just as painful.
Even as I write these words, I feel conflicted. I know my children are doing their best. I know that our life has its own unique magic—sparkles of joy that others might never get to experience. I know that my privilege as a mother is immense. And yet, that doesn’t stop the grief for the parenting experience I once imagined.
Learning and Adapting
If there’s a lesson to take from this, it’s that Mother’s Day in our house needs to look different. Instead of loading all the pressure onto one specific day, we need to spread moments of appreciation throughout the year—little and often. We need to redefine what celebrating motherhood (and our family as a whole) looks like for us, rather than trying to force a version that simply doesn’t fit.
Maybe that means scrapping the traditional Mother’s Day format altogether. Maybe it’s a spontaneous hug, a quiet cup of tea, a funny inside joke, or a moment of connection that happens when the pressure is off. Maybe the best way to celebrate love in our house isn’t through one big day, but through a series of tiny, meaningful moments.
And that, I think, is a reality worth embracing.
