Sunday, 10 March 2013

Week 79- Mother's Day, daffodil tax and watching Revenge

Being a mum and having a mum on Mother’s Day is a confusing situation to be in, in terms of what is acceptable as a giver and a receiver.

I mean, is it acceptable to expect a card, a bunch of flowers and a lunch out yourself, when you’ve only sent a card to your own mum?
A nice card, mind. And with my own sentiment inside, not penned by Hallmark.

And I meant every word.
I think my mum’s brilliant. She did an absolutely smashing job with me and my sister.

It can’t be easy with two strong headed girls, three years apart, especially through the teenage years.
And now she’s got another huge role in our family.

Nanny.

Which she’s equally ace at.
And I wrote as much in her card.

Thing is, birthday’s aren’t as much a big a deal as they used to be. Especially when there is only three days difference between me and Nancy. I used to send out the two month warning via email/ facebook that my birthday was coming.
And then the weekly countdown from about week six, to what would inevitably turn out to be a; get drunk too quick; smoke my body weight in fags; have a mini cheddars tea; not remember who was there anyway; have at least four days of impending sense of doom, style do.

But in light of the fact that that hasn’t happened for the last two birthdays, so much so that I numerically skipped one, and was gutted when Ulrika corrected me on my real age- Mother’s Day seems a legitimate day to take the limelight.
Which is the second conundrum.

At least on your birthday, you can make a fair guess that there might be some room in the pub, or a possible table available at Pizza Express.
But take your eye off the Mother’s Day bookings and you end up in a garden centre for lunch.

And the price of flowers goes up.
I was buying a bunch of daffs in the shop round the corner, I always find myself explaining that it’s to brighten our little flat up, so I don’t look like a total sad sack for always getting flowers for myself, and the price had gone up by 50p.

He said the suppliers up their price round Mother’s Day. WTF?
Talk about putting a tax on love.

So, all that said, maybe a card will do it for Mother’s Day.
A card made by a little person, written by a big person, saying what a brilliant mother/ girlfriend/ friend/ writer/ cook/ conversationalist/ listener you are. For example.

And a lie in. Definitely a lie in.
And someone else to do bedtime for one night.

And a chance to catch up on the last four weeks of Revenge.
So that’s... card. Sleep. Time. And telly.

I’m sure I must have done all that for my mum too.

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