First off, feliz día de amor y amistad. That’s Spanish for Happy Day of Friendship and Love!
In the spirit of Valentine’s Day, I wanted to challenge us (I say us because, trust me, it’s hard for me too) to be kinder and more empathetic towards our moms.
Eight days with my mom
I’m currently writing this from my condo in Idaho, where I’ve spent close to 8 days straight 24/7 with my mom. She came to help me organize the unit to prepare it for Airbnb.
She’s a sassy, energetic, joyful, fiery, strong-willed, optimistic Mexican woman. She uses a wheelchair. She wears bold prints, fancy beret hats, and oversized sunglasses indoors (she says she’s sensitive to light, but really I think it’s both a BDE thing and a functional thing).
It’s been a miracle to get her to travel with only a carry-on suitcase and a purse when we fly. She is very particular, glamorous, and detail-oriented. She’s also anxious, stubborn, and refuses to get her hearing checked because she doesn’t want to “wear ugly things in her ears.”
If it’s not coming across, I love my mother dearly. She’s incredible. She’s someone I admire and will try to replicate the rest of my life.
I also find her incredibly frustrating, annoying, and exhausting. She’s a product of years of generational trauma that she’s slowly chipping away at, but refuses to go to therapy for.
And then, mid-frustration during this trip, I heard something on one of my favorite podcasts (Giggly Squad) that completely reframed everything.
The realization that changed everything
Paige DeSorbo said, “I realized it’s my mom’s first time doing this life, too.” And that hit me like a ton of bricks.
OF COURSE. DUH. Why didn’t I ever consider that?
Just because she’s a mom or a grandma doesn’t mean she’s experienced this age, time, and life stage before.
She’s just out here doing her best with the tools and resources she has.
She’s never had a daughter in her mid-30s who is single, strong-willed, independent, navigating a male loneliness epidemic while simultaneously building a marketing business, Airbnb portfolio, and newsletter—all remotely.
She’s never entered her 70s before. She’s never dealt with aging bones, body changes, or watched her friends pass away.
She’s never watched her kids navigate dating apps, work from home, or build businesses online.
She’s never parented adults before. She’s never been in a world where her daughter has access to more information, resources, and opportunities than she ever did.
She’s never done a LOT of the things she’s now doing.
She’s also learning, growing, experiencing, and expanding. She’s trying her best.
Give her the grace you’d want someday
So while you might have had the privilege of a lot of stuff (higher education, feminism, the internet, technology, therapy, boundaries, to name a few..) and you have more wisdom than she did at your age…
She’s also NEW at this.
Give her grace. Give her love. And laugh it out whenever possible.
One of the things I love about my relationship with my mom is our ability to laugh. We say a lot of things to each other in truth, and then laugh. Not because we’re softening the blow, but because we actually find comedy in the truth. It’s a weird respect thing. Here’s the truth sandwiched in a funny joke or a laugh at the end of it.
We get on each other’s nerves and then laugh. Move on to the next emotion.
How to actually extend grace
Here’s what that looks like practically:
Ask about her experience, not just give advice. “What was it like for you at my age?” “How did you handle this?” Let her share her story.
Let her vent without trying to fix it. Sometimes she just needs to be heard. You don’t need to solve it or correct her perspective.
Forgive the unsolicited advice. She’s trying to help with tools from a different era. She doesn’t know what it’s like to navigate your world, but she’s trying.
Laugh together. Find the humor in the generational gap. Make jokes. Let things be light when they can be.
Your mom is awesome
All of this to say: your mom is awesome. She’s experiencing this life for the first time, too.
Make sure you recognize that, empathize with it, and respect it.
Because one day, you’ll be her age, experiencing life for the first time at 70-something. Navigating a world you don’t fully understand. Parenting adult children who live lives you can’t quite relate to. And you’ll wish someone extended the same kind of love and grace to you.
So call your mom. Tell her you love her. Cut her some slack.
She’s doing her best. And so are you.
Happy Valentine’s Day.

Thania (TA Content Mgr)