Mother’s Day is one of the most important days of the year – third only to Christmas and my own birthday. School has been prepping me for this happy day for several weeks now. Each afternoon has seen me returning home with an additional line under my belt to the celebratory song which begins ‘My Mum’s ever so special…’. I have had a home-made card in my book-bag for a good few days; the strain of keeping it hidden through the daily bag searches that Mummy performs has been almost unbearable. I have spent several nights unable to fall asleep before 9pm and wide awake by 6am, such is the excitement and anticipation of this big day.
So an element of forgiveness for my pre-Mother’s Day antics must surely be allowable. Just as toddlers on Christmas night may be absolved of their sugar-fuelled, exhaustion-led misdemeanors, so I feel I am deserving of some leniency regarding my own lapses in conduct in the lead-up to the momentous occasion. I admit that I have been less than amiable in my dealings with the Bug this week, and my fuse has been generally rather short.
Last year all this culminated in a rather unsatisfactory shopping expedition with Daddy. Having taken the time to prepare a comprehensive list of necessary purchases I systematically dragged him round the shops. He obliged with cash or credit as we progressed, until we got to the flower-buying stage. It being late in the day the floral offerings were very sparse, and my preferred bunch were looking a bit ragged, and Daddy put his foot down. Cue dramatic meltdown. This sparked a strop from Daddy. The ensuing phone call to Mummy was a mixture of gasping sobs and valiant explanations, but the scene was set; all of Mummy’s best parenting tools were required to diffuse both of our tantrums!
The best gifts are those that can’t be bought.
Accordingly we made a rather generous fuss of her on her big day. Real coffee in bed, the opportunity to read me the next chapter in my book, a lovely breakfast, some cool gifts (I have a knack for picking out great jewellery) and the instruction not to stand up all day. Additional to the purchases were the home-made offerings which had her in tears, and the other entries on my list, less tangible but all the more poignant for that. Seemingly the thing that Mummy values above all else is a harmonious home, with happy people doing nice things together. And hugs. And shampain.
This post is dedicated to all mothers, and to those who have loved them.