Words from a Bird. Day 67
Mother's Day is one of those wonderful days, when (assuming you are a mum) you are going to get spoilt rotten. I woke up this morning full of eager anticipation, waiting for someone younger than the husband and I to bring me a cup of tea, followed by breakfast in bed, cards, flowers and gifts. Between us, we have four kids, so the chances were looking good.
Now let's see where my children were on this very special day. Daughter number 1 was still recovering after coaching the winning team at a major netball tournament. I had already received a lovely text from her wishing me a Happy Mother's Day. Daughter number 2 was holed up in Kent after a house party. (I was at a house party last night also.....but at the house next door. No need for a Railcard). Son number 2 had decided to sleep over at his best friend's house, having cooked her mum a special dinner on Saturday night. (Can you sense my rage growing?) So everything rested on son number 1.
I waited until 8.17am before my desperation for a cup of tea could wait no more. I took that back to bed, where the husband and dog were entrenched in a snoring contest. I have different techniques to stop this snoring. One of them gets a belly rub, while the other gets a kick on the shins. I'll let you work out for yourself as to who gets what...
The husband had to head off to work for a short time this morning, so after he'd gone, I strained my ears to listen for any sign of life from son number 1's bedroom.. Still nothing. As my stomach was asking my back if my throat had been cut, I got myself up and had breakfast. While munching on a Hot Cross Bun (little bit early for Easter, I know, but I like to live life on the edge) I posted a rather caustic comment on facebook as to the non-appearance of the other three.
Well, surprise, surprise. Obviously, I embarrassed them all into coming out of the woodwork, and the phone started ringing and the children appearing. Son number 1 gave me flowers, as did son number 2's friend (her of the 'mum who had dinner cooked for her' fame).
Son number 2 had bought me a fabulous bracelet, and daughter number 2 had arranged delivery of a pair of red toaster tongs (no more sticking the fork in the toaster to get those Hot Cross Buns out).
So all in all, my children did me proud (as they always do, in everything).
A fantastic family lunch was the highlight of this special day - cooked by my sister. Of course, it was the first Mother's Day spent without our Nanny Joyce, but we all made sure that she was there in spirit as tales were told and stories remembered.
Mother, mum or mummy (or Mumpty, as I am known) we're all special. So lap it up ladies, it's another 364 days before anyone brings you breakfast in bed again. In my case, I had already waited 364 days since last year, so here's to another year of self catering.
Kids, be warned.....this may be the end of your full board arrangements...