As I puttered around the house this Mother’s Day basking in the fuss and attention of the holiday, I thought, “We need a holiday to celebrate the people, male or female, parent or not, who help moms and dads raise their kids.”

I think of these folks and a partial list includes:

The neighbor who takes my child’s side when his parents show a spectacular aptitude for narrow-mindedness.

The parents raising a special needs child who show, really show, the meaning of grace.

The grandparent who tells epic stories to the point of exhaustion.

The coach who lets my kid play and try new things where winning (or not) is in the balance.

The school secretary who seems to know who’s on what bus no matter the deluge.

The teacher who astounds my child by using a small melodious gong to settle down her classroom.

The after-school teachers who every day maintain Zen-like calm amidst the swirl of their charges.

The friend who’s had six kids and, when I mess up, encourages me to forgive myself and hands over some perspective.

Another mom who discreetly informs me that 7-year-olds are too young for paintball parties.

The aunt and uncle who take my child to shows and on grand fishing trips, so that I might have a date with my husband.

The parents with older children who share their stories of making it through to the other side of adolescence, a mirror with future secrets.

And I think of other mothers and fathers who by loving their children, show us what can be done, and show my kid what is good and true and strong.

We can call it “Others’ Day,” and we can observe it whenever and however we want, the main ritual involving the words “thank you.” 

— Marie Koltchak