MOTHERING SUNDAY FUNDAY

  • AUTHOR: // CATEGORY: Adventures, Consumerism, Doing Things, Funny Ha Ha, Opinion Piece, Parenting, Relationships

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    Say it with flowers.

    So it turns out that not being an obstinate little madam on Mother’s Day is way more fun than being one. Damn you, consumerism, you win this one! I don’t want to dance to your tunes, but by gawd, Mum appreciates a bunch of flowers once in a while doesn’t she?

    As you may have read my recent rants about Valentine’s Day (Nutshell: leave me alone, conformity!) and television (Nutshell: leave me alone, advertising!) you can surmise that I despise the commercialisation of Mother’s Day too. Weeks of shops dressing their windows in pastel colours and putting up big posters that say ‘we love our mums’ but mean ‘BUY STUFF FROM US’.

    I don’t like being told what to do, least of all by The Man, so every year on Mother’s Day I would not acknowledge the day. That’s right, she wouldn’t even get a text. Because I don’t like being told what to do. I didn’t stop to think how my actual mother faired in all of this silent protesting. That maybe her friends would stop by laden with candles and flowers from their appreciative off-spring and my mother would just have to mumble something about how her daughter doesn’t ‘do’ Mothers Day while they all peer out from a veil of daffodils and pity her for having such an opinionated sod for a child.

    This year I decided to hell with what I believe in, I’ll go and spend the weekend with her. And when I told Mother of my plans she was like a giddy little bunny on crack. That is to say, excited. It was then that I realised what a tit I am. That my misdirected oneupmanship at conformation is really not achieving anything and that maybe it’s okay to show a little appreciation on the same day of the year as other people show theirs.

    So I made Mum some breakfast in bed (at the kitchen table because in reality croissants are very flaky and besides, she was up way before me)

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    Happy Mother.

    Then I ‘let’ her beat me at Scrabble.

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    And I even let my sister pick my tiles for me. Genuinely, she picked these seven random tiles:

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    She found that most amusing.

    Then I made Mum lunch, and organised it to be sunny so we could sit outside. I bought her a scarf and wrote her a card which was funny and charming enough to make up for the fact it was our first Mother’s Day since I was at school. And I bought her flowers. And I let her clean my electric toothbrush – I save up all the gunk on it especially for her because cleaning makes her happy.

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    Teddy was from my sister. She so out-did me.

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    Danish flags, stole from the kitchen. A nod to Mother’s Land.

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    Cheese.

    So yes. Mother’s Day isn’t so bad after all. If you look at Wikipedia, you will see: Mother’s Day is a celebration honouring mothers and motherhood, maternal bonds, and the influence of mothers in society. Which, when you take away all the magazines and billboards ‘reminding’ us to buy perfume, spa days and meals, really is rather splendid an idea. Society would be nothing without mothers, the unsung heroes of our times. Mine is no longer unsung. From this day forth (well, from Mother’s Day last week) I officially acknowledge her efforts.

    I’m now having an existential crisis while I question my stance on everything. What’s next? Easter, in which I decide God might actually exist, through the medium of chocolate eggs.

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    Hang in there little ladybird. I’m sure your daughter has sent you a card.

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