Not Mother's Day — The Everyday

My Mum was into it, so as a kid I was totally on board. I loved making her cards, we’d often make them at school; tissue paper daffodils on flimsy candy coloured paper. And I loved buying her presents. My favourite place was the antique/junk shop round the corner. It was a total treasure trove and they’d always help me find something for my tiny budget. I delighted in the wrapping and giving of it, the joy she would show. It was fun, loving and nice. I’d buy her an old tea cup which she collected, or a hunk of amethyst. I managed to rescue some of them after she died and I treasure them. They hang out with my own junk on the dresser. It’s a happy place.

In his early years my son would do little kind things and he too would make sweet handmade cards at school (I still have an amazing pop up one he made). But it turned a bit sour, it was a lot of unnecessary pressure, he really wasn’t into it. So after a while the presents weren’t things that came from love or the fun of choosing things or making things, they came with a side order of reluctance and bad mood. It all became about duty. Duty is NOT love! I wasn’t fussed about it anyway, not really, so after a few further attempts via his Dad, we agreed to stop trying. Being pleasant for five minutes and then reverting back to being a grumpy, angry, ungrateful little sausage was even more annoying! Knowing he was capable of such sweetness but not bothering, harrumph! It lost its true meaning long ago. It’s just another way to sell stuff. I became very cynical about it all. Perhaps a little of that was churlishness over such unwilling progeny!!!

Outside of these weird made up traditions he would leave me little notes all the time, scratchy drawings and sweet missives, I never doubted his love. I actually think his cynicism towards such archaic emblems assigned to made up dates is very healthy and I encourage him at all times to question everything.

Once, his paternal aunty N, who was a very strange woman, rocked up to take him for an outing. She did this very occasionally and always made me feel like she was doing me a massive favour. She gave me a crumpled up carrier bag with a box of chocolates in and muttered something like; “You know, for Mother’s Day” with her usual nervy laugh. Apart from being confusing, it felt really inappropriate for someone who isn’t related to me in any way to give me a present for Mothers Day...and because I always found her such a difficult person, and she totally caught me off guard, I said. “Oh, um, thanks, we don’t really do Mother’s Day but, yeah, um thanks.” And with that she angrily SNATCHED them out of my hand and stormed off and drove away without my son and we haven’t seen her since. If I had known that was all it took…!!!

Mothering Sunday originated in America in the early 20th century, conjured up by Anna Jarvis as an honest ode to mothers, closely linked to Christianity and lent. She created it after the death of her mother as a way to commemorate her and mothers everywhere, the first one taking place in 1908. Inspired by Jarvis, Constance Adelaide Smith brought it to the UK shortly after. It was also a highly religious sounding affair. I never remember when it is, always a different date. As it took hold both women distanced themselves from it as it became more commercialised. Father’s Day is much the same, it has similar origins. Another day made up by an American woman. Inspired by Mother’s day, Sonora Smart Dodd wanted to commemorate her Dad who brought up 6 kids on his own. It began just a year or two following Anna Jarvis’ invention and came over to the UK shortly after.

In its original format it’s a wonderful thing, even if you’re not religious, who doesn’t want to be celebrated occasionally. But for me it’s become such a tacky thing with so many companies cashing in on it, and if you’re in the creative industry it’s impossible not to and all power to them. And by them I sometimes mean me, although I’ve never made any money out of it. Just as well, I always felt a bit itchy about it, and Valentine’s Day for that matter. Tokens of love can sometimes feel cheap when you spend too much money on them! And that dear readers is why I’m not a very successful businesswoman!

As kids it was meant to give mums a day off, which is hilarious as it usually made more work! We’d wake her up early with a crappy breakfast which was way under par and a lot of fuss. We’d leave a terrible mess in the kitchen; that is definitely not a gift! Personally, I hate breakfast in bed, it’s uncomfortable and full of crumbs. I’d prefer a proper lie in, a handmade card, a bit of extra thought maybe, but I’m really happy with nothing at all, honestly I am. It’s just another date to stress about! So for me a real day off is to remove all the pressure and pretence, enjoy a cuppa, whoever makes it, and crack on with a nice normal Sunday!

Now...let’s talk about Christmas...