May I start by wishing all my fellow comrades a belated Happy Mothers Day, I didn’t post yesterday because I decided to have the day off, although like all days it was to some extent still a working day. We all have different stances on Mothers Day depending on personal circumstances. I sadly lost my Mum 15 years ago so to me it was a difficult day for a few years and continues to be, although to an arguably lesser extent now I am a Mother myself. One things for sure, Mothers Day should be about Mothers. This was challenged strongly yesterday by both my boys (note I am leaving my beloved puppy Rocco out of this, although his name did appear on the card). The day started off in a usual hectic stupor involving poo, wee, refusal to get dressed and problems with shoes. It is Sunday morning, time for football and we are late. Ironically Mum was treated to a lie out as opposed to in (thanks clocks) and by the time my youngest boy and I arrive at football I am frazzled. My boy plays well; inbetween watching him I have the chance to open my Mothers Day card and discover I have been bought a Debenhams voucher which gives me great joy. I love vouchers and usually have something lined up to buy just in case I am lucky enough to receive one.
The day runs along without anymore drama until I announce that I want to go shopping to spend my voucher. Eldest boy refuses to come because he has a big blister on his toe, this is just about acceptable and I don’t challenge him. Younger boy is furious and announces he is tired. I rant and rave about how we should be able to do what I want because it is afterall Mothers Day (yes I am expressing my inner child). This culminates in me throwing said boys shoes outside and him lingering behind me as I walk up the road. He is furious, I am furious. Things start to calm down and we arrive in Debenhams, I locate my planned purchase, highlight and click on the link below if you are interestd.
Several times I have been asked when’s Children’s Day. I give the standard reply that I was given in my youth. I am also told that Mothers Day isn’t as important as my birthday, yes it is. My kind husband has booked a meal to a surprise venue, he is stuck in traffic so very late. We do neverthelsss manage to get out of the house. Older boy is fixated on wanting a Mixed Grill for his dinner, unforunately he guesses where we are going and starts to express disgust as this is not on the menu. He refuses to get out of the car and once out says he is not going. I plaster a smile on my face and say I am not going to let him spoil things. I then try the reasonable approach try to install a give and take ethic. He isn’t receptive, I wouldn’t mind but the said venue is the Sutton Arms, not some obscure fusion food joint with nothing he can eat. This continues and he sulks like Kevin the teenager (Harry Enfield, showing my age here). At one point I decide to video his strop with my iPhone and play it back. He is livid and attempts to thrown my phone across the pub. Eventually a compromise is reached and the remainder of the meal goes relatively smoothly. As we are walking back to the car, older boy says “we are a good family sometimes”. One could conclude from this that the day ended on a high.