Monday, 4 March 2013

Mother's Day, Doing It My Way.

It's Mother's Day on Sunday. I know this because every supermarket and high street window has been screaming out that fact since two days after Christmas.

Mothering Sunday, apparently, entitles mothers to one whole day where everybody has to do what they say and be nice to them. And not just because they want something in return, oh no.

The presents of Mother's Days past.
TeenTwin2's handmade keyring.
Mother's Day has over recent years also become a way of boosting the economy if the constant barrage of suggestions of what to get the Mother in your life are anything to go by.

The reasoning seems to be if something, anything, is painted pink, has flowers stuck in it or on it and has the word Mum slapped all over it as garishly as possible someone WILL buy it, regardless of what it actually is because well, it's Mother's Day and it says Mum on it. So it could be a dustpan and brush. Or an iron. Or a pair of hilariously glamourous novelty rubber gloves, but it says Mum on it so we'll buy it anyway. Right?

Er, wrong.

I may be a mother but, and hear this, I don't like cleaning or ironing or hoovering or washing up, even if it IS in a pair of feathered rubber gloves. There is NOTHING in the pantheon and plethora of household goods and electricals that I desire, want or would welcome as a present at any time at all, never mind Mother's Day which is supposed to be MY special day.

And I only do cooking because if you don't feed the little buggers they start complaining and I DON'T want a CD of specially selected songs to singalong to while I do it, thank you very much, you patronising marketing bastard, you. *And breathe*

...Not that I'm likely to have to staple on a pleasant smile to cover an appalled rictus of horror while I unwrap something this particular Mother's Day.

TeenTwin1 has informed me that she can't possibly afford anything because she's too busy saving for Leeds Festival and "that's important, muuuuum." TeenTwin2 will be spending the weekend in London, consequently she's said she'll bring something back for me. I fully expect that something to be a packet of hotel biscuits, half eaten. The Tween is still bearing a hamster related grudge and busy perfecting a malevolent stare, if she gets me anything at all it'll probably involve the bomb squad and cordoning off the street.

And The Boy? Well, me and The Boy will go shopping on Saturday when he WILL see something just right for Mother's Day which he WILL insist on buying, even IF we have to stand in front of that thing for three hours while I say: "Isn't that nice?" VERY LOUDLY.

Six year olds can be VERY slow on the uptake sometimes. *Tuts*

The presents of Mother's Days past
The Boy drawn by TeenTwin1

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