I never cared about Easter. Now that my kids are all grown up, it’s the easier holiday for them to come home.

I have never cared about Easter as a holiday. Not just because I’m not religious, although I suppose that’s probably part of it.

Historically, Easter has not made sense to me, especially as a mom. Am I buying presents? Chocolate? Decorating the house? Am I wearing that pastel sundress my algorithm is aggressively trying to sell me, even though it’s still 50 degrees outside? Why is a rabbit delivering eggs, and why is he hiding them?

I ignored Easter

These were minor irritations for younger me. The single mom raising four boys in a small town. I was the custodial parent and the holiday-maker.

When I was this mom, I had the privilege of deciding against Easter as a holiday because, let’s face it, I got to decide all of the holidays and every other day of the year. When I was this mom, I could afford to give Easter the cold shoulder in favor of Christmas. The Big Show. The main event.

I made a real meal out of Christmas, throwing myself into wringing every last magical moment out of the holiday. I baked their favorite cookies. I bought them holiday pajamas. I hosted their friends for parties. Decorated the tree with them, wrapped gifts with them, watched movies with them, sang carols with them.

That was before. Now I’m a new kind of mom. A mom of adult sons.

They have other plans now that they are adults

I am realizing that I’ve spent the past few years fighting to get that Christmas back. Auditioning to be on the main stage of Christmas even though we all know I’m more of a benevolent bystander in my sons’ lives these days.

I’ve watched them do their best to include me in their holidays. I’ve watched them try to navigate Christmas with their partners and their partners’ families, their dad and their friends, and their work, and even just try to find a moment for themselves. It’s a lot. It’s too much,

And even though I know they’re trying so hard to wedge me in where they can, I inevitably get my feelings hurt or just get lonely or maudlin or stop being any fun at all.

The thing is, I like to be fun. It’s fun to be fun. So I’m changing the game.

I’m making Easter our holiday together

This year I’m taking over Easter. No one else seems to want Easter for all the reasons I’ve already mentioned. It’s ripe for the picking. I’m going to become the default Easter mom everyone’s dreams of.

I am going to drive to the city where they live, and we will eat together. A big brunch of all our favorites, either at a restaurant or I’ll cook in someone’s home. I’m letting my sons pick. We are planning an afternoon movie at a cool little art-house cinema, where we will eat our Easter chocolate, then go for drinks afterward to discuss. We will order several plates of table fries and pick at them together. We’ll go back to my son’s house for board games in the evening. Eat more food. This will be our new thing. This will be my new thing.

I fought Easter for so long, and now? Now I’m excited. I’m excited to make life easier for my adult kids, to take one small pressure off their backs when their lives are exactly as full and great as I always hoped they would be. I’m excited to redefine Easter weekend as a relaxed, easy break. No gifts, no expectations, no decorations, no pressure.

And when Christmas comes around, I’m going to just let it go. Maybe even try something new and go away for a little holiday all my own. Because I’ve already had my perfect holiday with my kids.

I’m the new default Easter mom. Why didn’t I think of this sooner?