This morning I posted an article on Facebook from Mental Floss on Anna Jarvis, the founder of Mother’s Day in the U.S. Not surprisingly, it wasn’t very popular. In the midst of all the mother/daughter love and appreciation coursing its way up and down countless newsfeeds, I suppose the last thing anyone wants to read about is how the founder of the holiday celebrating their divinity died alone and penniless in an insane asylum, trying to rescue said holiday from the crass commercialism she felt had hijacked its true purpose and meaning. My acquaintances know that my humor is nothing if not tongue in cheek, but I suspect a few eyes were rolled and snickers exchanged. Clearly I just can’t understand how hard it is to be a mom.

The thing is I do understand, or at least can imagine, if for no other reason than because there’s Facebook, where we’re reminded every day of how hard the moms of the world are working, while the rest of us are sitting around on velvet thrones being fed grapes and champagne by loin-clothed manservants, apparently. But no really, I get it. Raising kids is hard. And our culture doesn’t adequately acknowledge said effort, which in part is why someone like Anna Jarvis felt the need to lobby so forcefully for a national holiday recognizing mothers in the first place. This should be about the gross commercialism that Mother’s Day and every holiday has come to represent, but I’m not going to bore you with that because it has been argued to death. And Anna already sacrificed her freedom and sanity to the subject over 60 years ago.

I don’t have a child and I don’t have a mother. This year marks the second Mother’s Day since my mother’s death, and while it was easier than last year, it was still harder than I expected. But that’s obvious. I had a complicated at best and terrible at worst relationship with my mother, so this day has always managed to make me feel like shit either way. Don’t have a child? You must be a selfish, unfeeling monster. Don’t get along with your mom (regardless of how inadequate or abusive she is)? You must be a selfish, unfeeling monster. A girl (living outside society’s mandated “norms” — even in the freaking 21st century) just can’t seem to win.

Ann Lamott’s brilliant essay on the subject in Salon really helped me cope last year, particularly because it’s nice to hear an actual mom say (and refute) what no one else will, but is clearly thinking: if you’re not a mother, your life and work are of less value. Or at least that’s what it feels like for the rest of us.

I’m still not sure if I’ll have (or even want) children, I’ve always been zen about the whole thing. I know I’ll be good either way. For now, I’m proud and guilt free over the fact that I’m taking care of and working hard to raise myself. And it’s the greatest job in the world.