For Mothers Everywhere...

As you may have noticed, if you a) have a mother or b) are one, yesterday was Mother's Day.

Now while I am firmly of the camp that MD is a trick foisted on us by the card/flower industries to make us spend vast sums of money we don't have on treating our mums (my mother holds this view too, but I feel sure if I DIDN'T send her flowers I'd know all about it), on the other hand, now that the kids are getting bigger, I do quite like the idea that they might start pampering me...

The pampering didn't get off to the best starts as a) no 1 had lost the card she'd made me at guide camp b) No 2 had lost the card Spouse had bought for me (she blamed no 1), c)no3 had made a card but as she wasn't at school on Friday she couldn't give it to me d) no 4 had made a card and given me a buzy lizzie on Friday, but we both forgot about it, so the card stayed in her book bag till I found it this morning.

No 2 had managed to make me a card at Brownies, and Spouse had bought me a fantastic book called Mother Tells You, which is from the Girl magazine dating from the fifties/sixties. It is full of advice such as how to clean a lace collar (something Every Girl clearly needs to know) and unintentionally hilarious.

On the positive side, we have now moved to the dizzy heights of breakfast in bed and cups of tea on state occasions. So yesterday it was my turn to get given breakfast, though we were both given a cup of tea.

Tea production in our house hasn't yet moved beyond faintly grey and lukewarm, but it's a start. The porridge I was provided with was rather lumpy. But at least they tried. Spouse ate the bread as I felt distinctly unhungry after the porridge had formed rock like in my stomach. I was also a tad hungover, as we had been out to the pub the night before. I had made the mistake of not eating as we had been rushing around all day, and then spent the afternoon in the garden (my recreation of choice above all others), I'd leapt in the bath afterwards and food sort of got sidelined. This coupled with my decision to drink rather more red wine then was good for me, resulted in a) loss of all functioning ability and b) inability to move in the morning.

On Sundays Spouse normally heads off to the gym with bil and sil, and I usually get to look after the children (funny that), but as mil had been babysitting, I had decided the previous day that I would go to. That was before, I had a hangover...

I managed to do twenty minutes on the running machine without throwing up (which was an achievement I feel) , and scared myself silly with the readings I was getting from my swanky new sports watch complete with heart monitor. My heart rate was either at 170+, or right down to 41. So either I'm really ill or I was conned...

Gym over we got back home and the two big ones declared their intention to cook lunch. Great, I said, and oversaw their efforts to make pizza. At the same time I decided to initiate them into the art of cooking a Sunday roast, which we were having later. Their first lesson was to peel potatoes. How come, said no 1 after ten minutes frantic scraping, you've peeled five potatoes and I haven't peeled one? She then abandoned the project to answer an urgent phone call from a school friend (she is getting to the stage that she is probably on the phone more then we are, and she's just discovered MSN. Oh dear, oh dear...) No 2 took up the mantle and managed to scrape one carrot and her finger in the time it took me to do the rest. They then both decided the garden was much more interesting, so although the spirit was willing, the flesh wasn't very...

After lunch, which no one helped me clear away, Spouse and I got down the important business of crop planting. I absolutely love this time of year, with the its promise of new beginnings. The daffs are now in full bloom in the garden, and I spent last week filling my pots with pansies and primroses. Thanks to the drought last year I haven't had anything in for nearly a year now and it brightens my heart to see some colour on the patio once more.


Two hours of scrabbling in the mud led to two rows of peas, three of carrots and one each of parsnips. We currently have lettuce, tomatoes, leeks, courgettes and brocoli growing in our conservatory, and though we ran out of time this weekend, I don't think we're too late to get our spuds in.

To counterbalance the threat of drought (we nearly divorced last year with the stress of keeping everything going once the hosepipe ban was in force), Spouse has turned two old water tanks that came from his mum's flat into extra water butts. So no we have six of the things. Which we can only hope will be enough....

It wasn't exactly a lazy way of spending Mother's Day, but I do find pottering in the garden immensely therapeutic, and get such a buzz from growing things from seed.

No 1 had shown enough interest in the cooking to come and help make the Yorkshires (thanks to the wonderful Sam Stern she did them all herself), but really my Mother's Day Dinner was down to me.

As was the clearing up.

Still, I did get to watch Mansfield Park.

And at bedtime no 1 came downstairs, saying...

Look what I just found.

It was the card they'd written that morning.

They've all signed it. Nos 1&2 gave me loads of hearts, and nos 3 &4 lots of kisses.

That's all I need really...