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Tina Fey said, “Being a mom has made me so tired. And so happy.” Agreed, Tina. Happy and tired are the conjoined synonyms of parenting, and the constant sacrifice for your kids’ well-being and happiness is never clearer than on Mother’s Day.

In 2014, when my kids were nine and three, they took me to see The Amazing Spider Man 2 for Mother’s Day. Because Mother’s Day, especially early on, is not so much about us. It’s about pinch pots and semi-cooked pancakes that show we’re loved and appreciated—or sometimes a superhero movie that happens to open the same weekend. I’m reminding my daughter of this story as I write, and her response? “At least you got to watch Andrew Garfield for a couple of hours.” Yes, that’s exactly how I wanted to spend the day intended to cater to my wants.

When Mother’s Day Wasn’t Really Ours

Most moms will tell you that the wants-catering went by the wayside as soon as that pee stick turned pink. I wanted salt constantly. One night I was seized by a sudden and fierce desire for bologna that I knew immediately was definitely not coming from me. My daughter supplanted my appetite, my shoe size, and my moods before she even made her grand entrance. But she’s 20 now, and I’m embracing the idea of a day where I need not curb my own wishes for someone else’s.

On Mother’s Day, we can fill our bucket for ourselves. Spread the word.

Tap Into Your Mother’s Intuition

At first, it might feel strange, even revolutionary: After years of putting others first, maybe we’re no longer sure what we really even want. But I have a suspicion that, if given the space to embrace the possibilities, there’s probably a little voice inside saying, “This. This would make me feel satisfied.” Maybe it’s worth listening to that voice a bit more closely. It might have a point.

Mother’s Day, now that the kids are mostly—or totally—grown, seems like the ideal day to try dialing up the volume on our inner voice. Give ourselves the day we always wanted. Maybe that’s reading a book from cover to cover while continually letting hot water into the tub until fingers and toes are entirely pruny. Maybe it’s taking a long run without texting about our extended absence. Maybe it’s brunch with friends, no children included, or a baseball game watched with a constant flow of nachos and absolutely zero interruption.

Wanting What You Want Isn’t a Crime

Because while Mother’s Day has historically purported to be about spoiling us and prioritizing our wishes, it skewed toward others’ agenda. And I’ve rolled with it, as I’m not a monster who’s going to Veruca Salt-out about not getting what she wants.

But is there a part of me that would love to have a day that’s exactly as I prefer? That might not even involve my kids for the morning because they tend to be rather troll-in-the-dungeon-like before noon? Maybe convincing my husband—who, admittedly, always lets me sleep in—to get up and go somewhere beautiful and quiet, like a flower farm for a crap ton of bouquets to make our home smell good, while our offspring get their beauty sleep. By the time we got back, everyone would be mostly human, so we could go get breakfast at a restaurant that includes many delicious vegetarian options. The others in my house love meat and become crotchety when animal protein isn’t on the menu. On this day? Tofu as far as the eye can see.

The Dream Day, Minus the Guilt

I’d like to go see a movie that isn’t a franchise and might even involve subtitles, followed by a lengthy, pre-paid massage performed by a therapist with gentle hands of steel. While recovering from my pummeling, I’d like to soak in a clean bathtub that doesn’t remind me I need to buy a new, non-mildewed shower curtain liner and that doesn’t create an echo chamber for the dog alarm system that goes off when anyone walks by our house.

I’d like to read a book for more than five minutes without losing my brain to the perpetual “Must Be Done” list. I’d like someone else to plan and execute dinner, followed by an absence of civil war between my children over dish duty. My husband and I would go for a walk with the furry alarm system, enjoying an evening cocktail in the cute little Corkcicle go-cups I bought two Christmases ago and which we’ve yet to actually use.

We deserve this because, let’s face it: Parenting takes it out of you. Caring for a child, even one who’s old enough to be a parent as well, is never done. I know this because my own mother tells me so, and because I see the writing on the wall. I no longer cut up my kids’ food, but I walk them through how to cook a meal themselves. I no longer wake up to console after nightmares, but I sit up with them to talk about friends and partners. And if you, like me, are both parenting your children and beginning to take care of your parents as well? Bless us, every one of us.

Caregivers of All Ages, Unite

One day to shout out everything we do, to celebrate everything we are, isn’t nearly enough. But we really should maximize the opportunity as it presents itself. Maybe it’s just this once, or maybe it’s permission to wrap our arms around ourselves—around each other—and say, “You know what? You’re doing great.”

Yes, Tina Fey, parenting makes you tired and happy. And I’m not oblivious to the fact that the opportunity to celebrate my mom-ness with the very people who gave me that title might not always exist. There will likely come a day in the not-too-distant future when my daughter and son aren’t near me, when they’re pulled into celebrating their partner’s mom instead or when they just (gulp) forget to call. Obviously, it won’t change an iota of who I am to them or for them—I’ll still feel justified in celebrating my parental accomplishments—but I’ll miss my kids. I’ll probably wax nostalgic about the days of no sleep, dirty diapers, baseball practice, teen drama. I’ll have fully transformed into one of those mothers I wanted to kick when they smiled sadly at my babies, sighed, and said, “It goes so fast, doesn’t it?”

Of course it does. Time often feels like it’s gathering speed, careening by faster and faster. We tell ourselves to live in the moment, but it’s hard when the moments are often so very crowded. This is yet another reason, then, to laud who we are and what we do. When we make ourselves stop, notice, and fill that bucket, we’re stopping and noticing what’s around us as well.

Love, In All It’s Messy Glory

The pinch pots from Mother’s Days long past now reside on my dresser and desk, holding earrings and paper clips. My son spotted his, and making a face at the baby art he asked when I’d finally get rid of them. “It’s so ugly,” he said.

But it’s not, of course. It’s a reminder of being tired and happy and grateful and loving … and so very loved.