Mother’s Day in the UK. I wake up not to breakfast in bed, but a Facebook newsfeed of others’ breakfasts, alongside shots of flowers and Pandora jewellery, chocolates and smiling children. As the day wore on, yet more smiling children, smiling mothers, smiling grandmothers, roast dinner shots and heartfelt quotes about love and family and #MothersDay #blessed.
Funnily enough, it didn’t work out like that here. So thank heavens for my sanity when a friend posted a pic of her washing pile with the caption ‘same shit – with lovely flowers and chocs’ whilst another friend posted a shot of an empty chair at a local steakhouse, the chair vacant as her teenage daughter had a strop and decided she’d rather just sit in the car.
I love my friends for telling it like it is. Because behind the pictures of family bliss lies a reality that’s less social media friendly. You can tick the boxes, but still come out underwhelmed and undervalued. Here’s what I got:
Sadly it also means they don’t want to sleep tonight!
A Bacon Sarnie
Of my own making. At lunchtime…because with neither bread nor bacon in the house this morning it took a trip to the supermarket to stock up on supplies first. At least I used Husband’s card to pay for it.
Bought for me for my dad (because Husband doesn’t see what Mother’s Day has to do with him – although I’m not sure how Boo and Noodles are meant to make it to Thorntons without supervision).
I was grateful for them beyond compare by the end of the day too. Without them as a bribe Boo would still be crying over her homework. Funny how the promise of an Orange Crisp or nine can make the three hours of wailing and sulking less torturous.
Precious Time With the Kids
Sadly Noodles vetoed a trip to the cinema (I was more than happy to pay for 90 minutes of quiet sitting down too, even if it involves watching an animated Panda, but he was having none of it). So instead I got to cut up bits of card into a thousand tiny pieces as Boo had a craft day (ie I then had the joy of picking up most of the tiny pieces of card from the floor and differentiating between which of the shards were rubbish destined for the bin and which were preciously vital to the project) and got to stand in the garden in the rain whilst Noodles bounced on the trampoline.
And there I was hoping I could have snuck in an hour at the gym.
A Traditional Roast Dinner With the Family
Guess who cooked. Clue: it was me! And as for it being a picture-perfect family gathering, Noodles refused to come to the table and Boo was mid homework meltdown so sat sobbing over her six maths questions in her room. Less of a gathering; more of a distribution.
Oh, and those tulips at the top of my post. My favourite of all flowers, on display in my living room, looking beautiful with the promise of spring. I bought those for myself in the week too.
Don’t tell anyone, but next year my fellow underwhelmed mums and I have got a plan: we’re booking ourselves in for a spa day. We figure the kids might notice around teatime, the husbands as the football/obligatory Mother’s Day James Bond film finishes. Or perhaps when they log onto Facebook and notice pictures of our manicured toes on their newsfeed. Maybe then we’ll finally get to join the ranks of the #MothersDay #blessed.