Mothering Sunday

I'm quite good at mothering.  I've got the behind to bustle with gusto.  I care about who has had a beverage and enough to eat.  I worry if you look a bit peaky and I offer all kinds of motherly advice on pretty much every subject.  And then there's the baking - but let's not get side tracked.

If you are UK-bound (and possibly elsewhere in the globe, I haven't bothered to fact check) then today is Mother's Day.  It's a sensible time of the year to have Mother's Day.  Far enough from Christmas that you've managed to recover from all that turkey and not so close to summer that you can't bear to spend a single moment indoors.  Walking through my local supermarket yesterday was a little bit like having wandered into the hanging gardens of babylon although with more pushing and shoving and a rather disgruntled looking member of staff unloading yet more blooms.  Can't complain though - I got my lovely flowers.   Probably ought to take them out of the wrappings soon.

And so to Mothers.  I've got one, well two.  Had another and now got one more.  It's kinda awesome. Each one is completely different to the other and yet in their own individual way they mother me. Advice, encouragement, support - all the usual stuff, I'm an extremely lucky daughter.  I can also class myself as a proper grown up now because I have my own terribly small person to mother.  And even though this is my third year in receiving my mummy day card, it's the first year where I feel I can sit demurely and wave graciously, queen-like and accept all mum accolades.

It did feel odd having 'spare time' to kill as all my usual tasks were taken care of around me.  There was a goodly dollop of guilt splodged upon me (by myself) as I sat and watched a movie - all the way through - without any interruptions - except for a loo break cos, you know, mum bladder.  And yet as much as it was a pleasure to sit down and do nothing, I didn't really like it.  I prefer to be busy during the day - it keeps me going so that when I sit down in the evening it really is 'my time'.  Just because I spend most of that hour and a half in a catatonic state, too tired to do anything else, is neither here nor there.

And so to the end of my day.  Tidying up and washing and sorting out stuff for tomorrow.  The usual bits and bobs.  The ones that give you inordinate satisfaction as you go from room to room confirming that everything is in its place ready for a new day.  And you know what?  I've got a tub of Ben & Jerry's that I might not even share.  After all - it is Mother's Day.