Until I had kids, I guess I never really realised the importance of Mother’s Day. Yes, I did make sure my mum had a card and present and that we went to see her, but I didn’t realise how it felt to be a mother and the sheer bloody hard work that goes into it.
Then I became a mum myself and I was surprised at how much Mother’s Day meant to me. One day, one single, solitary day for me. When my family can actually appreciate what I do for them and put me first for once. Because mums never come first – we make sure the kids are OK, we make sure our other halves are OK, our parents, our siblings, our friends, our nieces and nephews, our pets… Then somewhere, just below the guinea pigs, there’s us. Mums.
My kids give me the greatest pleasure, they are a delight to be with and I love them with all my heart. But, let’s be honest, kids are ungrateful sods. They have NO IDEA how much work goes into keeping them fed, watered, safe, clothed, educated, entertained, clean and tidy, because it all happens seamlessly, as if by magic. While they’re sat in front of a screen or kicking a ball round a pitch, someone is beavering away to ensure their lives run in the smoothest and most pleasurable way possible. And nobody ever stops to think and say ‘thank you, mum!’.
Cards, presents and flowers are nice (and will all be very much appreciated), but what I would really like on Mother’s Day is some peace. No arguing. No mess. And maybe just a little bit of help with tidying up. Maybe, for just one day a year, my kids might realise just how much I do for them and actually be a little bit grateful for it.
Too much to ask?