Yesterday was Mother’s Day here in the UK. I don’t really remember my first Mother’s Day, I guess I was only just through the sleepless nights and my memory of those first few months of parenthood are pretty hazy to say the least. But I do remember my second Mother’s Day, we had some of my husband’s family over for lunch, and he spent what felt like forever in the kitchen making the most amazing spinach and feta pie from scratch. It was delicious, but it meant that I was on child care duties. I was effectively a single parent weekdays back then, Greg worked long hours and didn’t see our eldest daughter, Elvia at all during the week. So if I am totally honest, all I really wanted for Mother’s Day that year, was actually some time off from being a Mother.
Fast forward nine years, and this is how my Mother’s Day looked:
Woken at 5.30 am by the youngest coughing, managed to doze back to sleep, woken at 7.20 am by the youngest shouting because she had sneezed and had snot all over her face! Half an hour later, the eldest walked in on me on the toilet with the pancake batter for my much promised breakfast, just to check it was the right consistency. Go downstairs to see said pancake batter on the kitchen side, whilst everyone else tucked in to their breakfast. Decided to make my own pancakes.
After breakfast, we went to the park, and I lay on a bench in the sun for a while whilst Greg followed the girls round the playground. Naturally I felt guilty about laying there doing nothing, that goes without say.
The afternoon was spent doing a spot of gardening, reading a few books to Dottie and then sitting on the front door step with my mother-in-law chewing the fat as they say, whilst Greg cooked Sunday dinner. Obviously both girls felt the need to hang round us, taking it in turns to do something dangerous so we couldn’t quite switch-off, clambering up lamp-posts, sliding down the step hand-rail, that sort of thing.
But despite the fact that I definitely didn’t have any alone time, that’s not what I want anymore. In fact, it is the opposite, having them around on Mother’s Day feels like how it should be. During the morning, they very proudly presented me with a little jug full of sparkly beads, and the word love hand-written on the back of individually cut-out hearts in twenty different languages. Dottie made me a card which said “I love you. You give the best cuddles”, and Elvia frequently told me that I am the best Mum in the World. That’s what Mother’s Day is about for me these days, it’s about those moments, even if it does mean that I don’t get to go to the toilet in peace. Because without my girls, I wouldn’t even get to celebrate Mother’s Day anyway, and I know having them, makes me the luckiest woman alive.